


Who said that?

by coconutcranberries (orphan_account)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - No Hale Fire, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Angst, BAMF everyone, Complete, Humor, I will add tags as I go
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-15
Updated: 2014-08-06
Packaged: 2018-01-01 15:47:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 33,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1045680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/coconutcranberries
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles has a very unique superpower, in that he doesn't exist. He's invisible, untouchable, unhearable-is that a word?-and just not there. He feels like a ghost most of the time, although he can't walk through walls (he tried, the wall took offense and his nose paid the price) and he can still trip over his own feet. He blends perfectly into the background and no matter how hard he tries, nobody knows he's there.</p><p>It's a lonely life, he's not gonna lie. </p><p>But suddenly something changes. Stiles is part of a group project which includes probably the most explosive combination of people in his class. These people don't notice when he waves a hand right in front of their face-how could they when he doesn't exist? The possibilities are endless. </p><p>Oh, this is going to be so much fun.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Just getting started.

**Author's Note:**

> Im so bloody sorry, I accidentally deleted this, I can't believe i did that, I was trying to post another chapter! Please don't hate me! It won't happen again, I swear. Anyway, here's two chapters to make up for it, you'll have to bookmark and stuff again im afraid :( So so sorry, but please enjoy!

The world is not split into superheroes and bad guys. That was one of the first things his Mum taught Stiles. He could well remember the day, when he was seven, sitting in the plastic hospital chair while his Mum coughed and gripped his hand. Dad wasn’t there, he’d gone off to try and contain a Rogue Firestarter, try and keep them under control while the water unit kept the forest from burning down. Beacon Hills wasn’t the best place for a Firestarter to lose control, especially not on the edge of the preserve. 

His Mum had taken deep breaths and Stiles could still remember the way they seemed to rattle in her chest, deep gulping breaths that sounded desperate and painful. She had looked him in the eyes, with the same amber colour as his and told him that the world was full of people and that those people were all the same, no matter what kind of power they had, if they had any at all. 

And just as Stiles could still remember the way her hand had tightened on his before it slackened, the way her last breath seemed to suck all of the air out of the room, the way the flat sound of the monitor echoed throughout the whole hospital, Stiles could still remember those words, clear as day. The world is not split into superheroes and bad guys. You’re worth just as much as any of them, sweetheart.

A smashing sound jolts him out of the memories, which Stiles can admit is probably a good thing. His Dad always tells him he spends too much time with his head in the clouds, or the computer. When he finally focuses on the source of the noise, he’s not surprised in the least. 

High Schools will always have that one guy that thinks he’s God. It does not matter where you go, there will always be bullies. Stiles has learnt this the hard way, except he doesn’t really have a choice about standing up to them because he’s 147 pounds of sidekick and he goes to a school for superheroes. Beacon Hills High has a high success rate for turning out some of the best superheroes the world has ever seen, Jesus, Nearly all the Hales graduated here, but Stiles knows there’s no way they’d ever make him into one of the greats. But yeah, bullies. Beacon Hills High has several, like most High Schools, but there’s one in particular that everyone tries their hardest to stay away from.

Jackson is the biggest asshole in all of the multiverses. Stiles has seen the guy pick on almost every single student at this school, barring Danny, Lydia and himself. Danny is the nicest guy in the world, with dimples and straight teeth and all the muscles. His power as a Technopath makes even the teachers wary, especially after he programmed all of the school monitors and computer screens to show slideshows of the most embarrassing photos of all the staff. Okay, so, maybe he’s not the nicest guy in the entire world, but he comes a close second. 

Lydia Martin is … unexplainable. As in, there are no words. She is overwhelmingly smart, can snap people like a twig with just words and reduce them to a blubbering mess with a single fiery look. If she ever uses her powers for evil, the world is in serious trouble. She’s not quite a mind-reader, but she is able to pull thoughts out of people’s heads and put her own ones in there as well. Stiles is 100% certain that she’s planning to use it to take over the universe by the end of High School. 

So, Jackson would never dare to bully Danny or Lydia because he would regret it so bad and also because, why would you hurt your girlfriend and your best friend? 

There’s another smashing noise and Stiles rolls his eyes and faces the door. Jackson’s at his desk, using his power to break the large glass bottles on the front two tables and smirking when the students flinch back and yelp. Cracks start appearing on another bottle, but before it can explode, the door crashes open and Professor Morrell walks in. She raises an eyebrow at everyone in general and they all sit up straighter, trying to avoid her glare. 

“Class, it’s nice to see you’re all here on time for once, I hate when I have to pause to let someone fly in late.” She eyes Scott McCall and Stiles snorts, standing and stretching. Scott isn’t the only one with the ability to fly, but he’s one of the most talented and he has an awful lot of control over it for a sixteen year old. Unfortunately, he mostly uses it to fly his girlfriend, Allison, up to the roof and make out where Allison’s Dad can’t catch them. He grins as Scott turns red, hunkering down into his seat to avoid Morrell’s gaze.  
Stiles wanders towards the front of the class, trailing his hands along each desk until he reaches Morrell’s. She has some really interesting files in her drawers, but Stiles has already read most of them. He even found one for him, tucked in the back but, it was empty. He picks up a pen and writes his usual rambles on the board in blue. He veers off into different languages a couple of times and there are a few doodles of stick people up there, but it gets done. He steps back and admires his artwork, feeling pleased with himself and extremely bored. 

It’s the Oath of Heroes, done in blue marker and smudged around the edges, but he knows the whole thing off by heart now and it barely takes him five minutes to write out. Stiles turns back to Morrell, spitting the lid up into the air and catching it in his hand. Nobody notices. Nobody ever does. He surveys the classroom, taking in the way several people are texting under the desks, the way Lydia and Jackson are playing footsie under the table and the way Scott’s eyes seemed to have glazed over. He tries not to look at Derek Hale, in case his eyes do the same trick. It’s not like anybody will see it but Stiles will know it’s there and he’ll probably start drooling, which is just gross. 

“…group project…” 

The whole class perks up then, snapping to attention. Stiles stares in surprise at the teacher, who looks like she’s smirking. Group projects are rare in Beacon Hills High, because superheroes usually work alone. This wasn’t in the lesson plan, he thinks. He’s suspicious now, curious too and maybe even a little bit excited. He tried hard to push that feeling down though because there’s no way he’ll ever get put in a group. He walks back to his seat and sits cross-legged on the top of his desk, elbows on his knees and his head on his fists. Morrell smirks again and starts talking.

“This project will be forty-five per cent of your grade for this class. I will not accept any thing less than your best work. I will not accept any work that looks as if only one student put in any effort. You must all contribute or it is probable that you will fail this course.” Everyone looks worried at this, but Morrell just ignores her students’ despair and pushes on. She’s cruel like that. 

“For the next five minutes I would like you to read the hand-out on your desk.” she waves her hand and conjures up 34 pieces of paper that float down onto each desk. Stiles’ lands in his lap and he’s kind of shocked that he even got one; usually he has to steal someone else’s copy if they get given paperwork. 

“It contains all the information you need to know in order to achieve a good grade, including your topic, how to present it and what groups you will be working in. I would like you to read it through and then organise yourselves into your groups. For the remainder of the class I would like you to discuss how you’re going to split the work up and perhaps get to know each other a little bit. Now, get to work.” 

The class scrambles to find their groups, some looking reluctant and most just looking terrified. Jackson has a full snarl on his face and Lydia is eyeing everyone with disdain. Stiles hesitantly picks up his hand-out, scanning it lightly until he sees the list at the bottom of the page. The hand-outs must have been magically programmed, Stiles thinks faintly, to find the right people. He’s on the list. He’s actually on the list. He almost keels over when he reads the rest of the names.

Jackson Whittmore, Lydia Martin, Scott McCall, Erica Reyes, Derek Hale and Isaac Lahey. And his name. His name which is on the list. His name, Stiles Stilinski, which he hasn’t seen written down since he looked at Morrells file and the post-it note his Dad left on the fridge this morning. His name has never been written down by anyone else since his eighth birthday. 

He looks at the list again, eyes still focusing immediately on the black script, the neat lines that make up his name. But there are other people on that list, people who are all looking at each other with varying levels of hatred, mistrust and annoyance across their desks. People who don’t know who he is. How could they, when he doesn’t exist?

Oh, this is going to be fun.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is an abundance of confusion and Stiles finds a pattern.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See look, im making my stupid mistake up to you all with a new chapter! Im also avoiding college, which inevitably leads to the Internet and then Tumblr and then me writing words. Oh and I have chocolate, I just thought I'd tell you that :) Thanks for reading, hope you enjoy!

“Honey, I'm home!” 

It takes a few seconds, but there’s finally a response, more of a tired grunt than anything. Stiles sighs in relief. It’s the same routine he goes through every day when his Dad is home before him, just to check. He throws his bag on the floor near the pegs that were installed specifically for hanging up things like bags and then goes into the kitchen. 

His Dad looks tired. Unfortunately, this isn’t a new look for him and Stiles doesn’t really know how to make it go away. It’s mostly his Dad’s job that’s got him so run down. His Dad is the Sheriff of the police department in Beacon Hills and although his Dad disagrees, Stiles has always firmly maintained that he would be the Sheriff with or without his powers. There’s no denying that they come in handy though. 

His Dad’s powers are in his voice, but they’re still mind-based powers, just like his mum’s and everyone else in the Stilinski family. He can manipulate the tone and volume of his voice perfectly with a single thought and make it compel others to listen, or do what he says. It’s useful for interrogating criminals, because they tell him exactly what he wants within two minutes. It’s also good for interrogating sons but, that’s more because it’s his Dad and his Dad has a very large range of facial expressions that make Stiles run for the hills. 

Like now for instance, that’s an interrogatory face with a hint of I-will-judge-you-with-the-tiniest-flick-of-my-eyebrows. Stiles tries to pull an innocent face in return but, he doesn’t have one, so he gives up.

“What did I do now? Jesus, man, im not even two steps in the door yet.” Stiles walks over to the table and grabs his Dad’s empty coffee cup. Coffee is a necessity in the Stilinski Household and Stiles needs his fix, right now. Not that he can’t get that in school; they’ve got several staff rooms fully equipped with perfectly good coffee beans and mugs. In fact, he’d gone out and bought six mugs and written his name on the bottom in sharpie pens before distributing them among the staff rooms, just in case they ran out one day. It’s not like the teachers will notice them. 

“I got a call from your principal today.”

Stiles freezes, almost dropping the mug, now full of hot coffee, and spins round, flailing one arm out to the side. 

“What? How?” 

His Dad quirks up a small smile, but Stiles can see the worry and confusion in his eyes. 

“Well, the traditional method is to pick up a telephone and dial a number.” Stiles pulls a face at that; he knows exactly how to use a phone, even if the only person who will answer is his Dad. Nobody else registers the phone is ringing, which is irritating because he could have had a lot of fun with prank calls. His Dad seems to sense that his mind is wandering and pulls it back on track. 

“They wanted to know why a Stiles Stilinski never attended their school after primary.” Stiles is even more confused now, so he sits at the table, spinning the chair round so he can face his Dad over the back of the seat. He drops the coffee gently on the table and then waits. 

“I don’t really understand it either son, but I got the gist of it. You know your powers didn’t materialise until your…until after your eighth birthday.” there is a slight pause where Dad almost talks about his mum dying, but he stumbles on. "So they still have you on record for your first few years of primary school. You kind of disappear after that. Apparently, it looks suspicious and the principle thought something had happened.” His Dad stops, looking less judging and a lot more worried. But all of this sounds normal to Stiles. He stopped existing after he turned eight and since his power was all in the mind; it erased him from everyone’s memories and lives. 

Before, when he was younger, he had friends. He and Danny used to trade Pokémon cards at break times and Lydia used to compete with him to see who could draw the most exaggeratingly horrible picture of Mr Harris. Jackson was awful to him, but in PE he always told Stiles that he was a good runner. He talked to Daisy and Mike, who are both in his biology class now, about whichever library book he’d taken out that week. He had friends, maybe not as many as Jackson and Lydia, but he was friendly and people seemed to like him. He even knew the Hales a little bit, from when they came into the diner where his mum worked to have lunch on a weekend. 

He misses all of them, but he probably misses Scott the most. Scott had been his best friend. It hurts that Scott can’t remember him, but Stiles has a lot of time to get used to it. He knows now that it’s not his friends fault, even if he didn’t before. None of them can remember Stiles; none of them know who he is and none of them can see him now. 

So yeah, all of sounds normal to Stiles; he doesn’t get why it’s only coming up now though. He decides to tell his Dad about the project.

“Something weird happened to me today as well. I got put in a group project. Morrell conjured up the papers for everyone and mine had my name on it. That’s the first time anything like that’s ever happened.” 

His Dad looks even more concerned now. “You’re not feeling ill, are you? Are you sleeping alright? Maybe it’s stress.” Sometimes, superheroes that get really rundown suddenly lose control over their powers and it messes up their lives big time. 

Stiles grins reassuringly at him, shaking his head. “I know what you’re thinking Dad, and it’s fine. I reckon it’s just plugged into the school system. There’s paperwork copies of me there, even if all they say is my name and basic information. Well, they don’t say my power, but they don’t really need to. It makes sense that there’s a magical copy of me as well.”

“Actually son, that doesn’t make sense at all. I’ve got a file for you at the police station because I know who you are; I know you exist, most of the time. There isn’t one at the hospital even though I took you in to get your leg fixed when you jumped out of that damn tree.” He ignores Stiles’ squawk of protest, which, rude, but still. For the record, he did not jump, he fell. He was definitely not trying to see if he could fly like Scott. Stiles sighs and tries to make sense of all this. It had made sense before, but it doesn’t now, not after his dad has used goddamn logic. 

“Right. I’m not sick and I’ve never slept properly, so it’s not that I'm losing control of my power. I don’t have control of my power, it’s just a thing. It’s like, “I don’t exist, and now, the weather.” So it can’t be that I'm losing control because there is nothing to control. My power is all mind-based. It wiped everyone’s memories of me, literally everyone except you and that’s because your family. Our families powers are all mind-based, even yours to an extent. But there are still some paper copies left. Like my birth certificate, that’s probably still there, isn’t it?”

His Dad looks thoughtful for a minute before nodding. “It probably is still there, it’s just that no one knows it is. I expect that when they look at it they see something else, or they read it and then forget they read it. But yes, I think it still exists. In all honesty, I haven't really thought about it before. ”

Stiles hasn't either; thinking about it used to make him kind of panicky, so he doesn't do that anymore if he can help it. “I don’t know why though. If I'm not supposed to exist, then why are there still records that say I exist? What’s with the school suddenly realising that I don’t go there? And do they know me now? Are they going to ask more questions?” He has a headache now. His Dad shakes his head. 

“The principal seemed to get more confused as the phone call went on, so I think he was forgetting that you exist even as he asked what happened to you. You shouldn’t have any more questions, at least not until someone finds it on the computer again. I don’t know about the rest of it though. I guess we’ll just have to wait and see if there’s a pattern.”

Stiles nods and goes to sip his now-cold coffee. He’s still worried and a whole load of confused, but he’s always been a fan of ignoring the problem until it goes away, so he’s hoping that will work this time. 

“Right, well, I’ve got a load of homework to do, so I'm gonna…” he jerks a thumb behind him at the stairs and gets up. His Dad gets up too and squishes him in a big fatherly hug. It makes Stiles relax, which is perfect. His Dad’s the only one who’s hugged him since his mother died and he makes sure to do it regularly, so that Stiles doesn’t go out of his mind. Stiles appreciates that; he’s already lost half his marbles, he doesn’t need to lose the rest just because no one ever touches him. 

Once he’s upstairs he throws himself on his bed. His room is a bit of a mess but he can’t really be bothered to clean it. He also can’t be bothered to do his homework, but he knows he has to. Technically, it wouldn’t matter if he didn’t do it, since he can’t exactly hand it in. He tried that once and the teacher threw it away. He still does it though because he’s smart and wants to keep it that way; he just keeps all his work in folders. Stiles sighs in resignation and gets to work burying himself in his computer.

He resurfaces halfway through an essay for English when he hears voices outside his house. He glances at the clock and raises an eyebrow at the blinking numbers. Surely it can’t be two o’clock in the morning? He squints, but yes, yes it is. Stiles shuts his computer closed and stretches, feeling everything click quite nicely. He’s about to head to bed when he remembers the voices. Why are there people outside of his house at two o’clock in the morning? 

The window opens easily and he knows no one will notice it, just like the class didn’t notice him writing on the board this morning. He peers out, but there’s no one there. Maybe they’re invisible? Suddenly, he sees a figure dart back out onto the street. Not invisible then. It’s frustrating, but he can’t see who it is in the light. They don’t seem to be looking at him though; they move their head back and forth as if checking for cars, but considering they’re stood in the middle of the road, Stiles thinks they’ll feel any before they see them. More figures dart out into his line of sight and they group together. There seems to be an argument of some sort, but he can’t tell what they’re saying. It goes on for about a minute before they seem to still as one. Stiles freezes too, but a second later they sprint away, faster than a normal human would be able to run.

He sags against the windowsill and then shivers before slamming the pane down. He’s got goosebumps and they’re not entirely from the cold. There was something about the way those people moved, something graceful and smooth that makes him shiver again. He’s a little freaked out and he’s definitely fed up of being confused today, but mostly he’s just tired. He decides to think about it more tomorrow. Stiles can feel the second that the exhaustion kicks in and his eyelids droop. 

He sprawls on the bed, checking his phone even though he knows there won’t be anything there. Why does he even have one? He yawns and rolls over-then rolls back. There’s a message symbol glinting in the corner of his phone. He frowns; his contract is all set up in his Dad’s name, so it’s probably Vodaphone asking for his bill for the month. Still, this feels weird. 

He opens the message and feels his heart skip a beat. There are only two words in the message but, it’s enough to make him go cold all over. It’s just his name. Stiles Stilinski. The number is gibberish, just a row of endless fours. He turns his phone off and shoves it under his bed. His Dad always says three times is a pattern. A group project, a phone call and a message. 

Looks like he’s found his pattern.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uhhh, I never know what to put here, but I really do hope you enjoyed it :) Let me know what you think please? Thanks!


	3. Just setting the scene

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which no one has any respect for books.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Im late for my bus, so here you go friends! And thank you for the huge response to the last chapter :3

The next day goes by with relative ease. The second one…not so much. He’s got Morrell’s class again, which means they have to work on their project. Morrell glides around offering cryptic suggestions, which are less helpful than if she’d just stood in the corner and glared. 

Stiles is lying on the floor. The others have pushed several tables together and grouped uncomfortably around them. Lydia is perched on the edge of her seat, leaning into Jackson’s arm, which is wrapped around her shoulders. Jackson’s sprawled in an annoyingly elegant way with his usual smirk on his face. Stiles really hates that smirk. He wants to hit it. With a car. 

Scott looks the most awkward, mushed between a mutinous looking Derek Hale and Erica, who won’t stop leering. Stiles feels a pang of sympathy for him. He also feels an uncontrollable urge to laugh, so he does, because hey, he’s not exactly disturbing anyone. 

The ceiling is extremely uninteresting, Stiles thinks. He’s been staring at it for the past seven minutes, since there wasn’t exactly room for him at the table and he didn’t feel like sitting on the desks today. He really should get around to fixing how plain the panels are. They need a bit of paint, maybe bright orange. 

See, the thing is, Stiles has never really stopped hoping that one day someone will see everything he’s done. They’ll see the blown up posters in the gym of Mr Harris when he was drunk on New Year’s. Someone will walk into the art class and see all the furniture he fixed to the walls and the rather explicit artwork that he took the liberty of printing off and pasting on the windows. Stiles has done so many things over the years, all of which would probably have got him expelled or at the very least suspended, and yet no one has done anything about it because no one has seen it. It’s frustrating, but it doesn’t mean he’s going to stop. Eventually, someone has to notice him.

He was never this bothered over his power before. Sure, it was upsetting when he was younger, but it was also kind of perfect. People kept giving him pitying looks and trying to sympathise with him but, he didn’t want any of it. He wanted to grieve for his mum alone; he wanted to be left alone. He didn’t want anyone to tell him that they understood. He got what he wanted and for a while, things were okay. 

And now, he’s a bit fed up of it all. He’s been getting even more annoyed lately, more lonely. He can see all of his classmates enjoying themselves, going out for lunch at the diner and going bowling and being invited to parties. He’s watched them all grow up, seen them change and grow into themselves. He just wishes someone could say the same about him. 

“You know as much as I'm enjoying the tense, awkward silence we’re all participating in, I for one, actually want a good grade in this class.” Lydia’s voice cuts into his thoughts effortlessly. Her words have always been sharp, edged with a kind of viciousness that has people cowering in less than a second. Stiles can appreciate that; it’s part of what makes her a brilliant superhero. 

Erica leans forward, her blonde hair falling over her shoulders. People have mistaken her for a seductress or a succubus and she lets them believe that but, Stiles knows that’s not what her power is. He has a feeling he’s one of the very few who know exactly what she can do. 

“What do you suggest then Princess? None of us like each other, we’re going to be shit at working together.” Isaac snorts from his seat next to Jackson. He’s one person that Stiles doesn’t know a lot about. He knows about Camden and about Isaac’s father and he read the file on his power. But he has no idea what Isaac’s actually like. 

“Then I suggest you all learn to like each other. Which topic did I give you?” Morrell appears from seemingly nowhere, as if she’s conjured herself up. Stiles doesn’t know if that’s actually possible but he wouldn’t put it past her. The group freezes as a whole, keeping still until Scott picks up a spare handout. 

“Uh, it says “The importance of equality between Power races.” There’s a side-note about linking it to equality between people without powers and people with powers as well.” Scott looks kind of ill reading about it, in fact the entire group does. Well, Lydia looks unconcerned actually and Erica appears to be sulking. Derek’s expression hasn’t changed since he sat down, meaning that he still looks annoyed and bored. 

Stiles on the other hand, grins hugely. Maybe it makes him a bad person, but he’s always found watching other people’s misfortune to be rather funny. They’re all going to kill each other by the end of the week. 

“I see. So, it looks like you are going to have to work together to overcome your issues. Think of it as a training exercise and pull yourselves together. I suggest you work on delegating different roles within your group and then head to the library to find your sources. Don’t forget to reference them.” Morrell leaves, looking nothing short of unimpressed with them and goes over to Danny’s group. 

Erica snorts inelegantly and stands up, stretching. Lydia rolls her eyes and gets up, pulling Jackson with her. Scott follows unsurely, looking extremely hesitant. They head to the library and Stiles reluctantly joins them a few minutes later, after weighting up the pros and cons of just remaining on the floor. It was surprisingly comfy when you got used to it. 

He arrives at the library and seriously wishes he’d stayed in the classroom. He lets the door swing shut behind him and ducks quickly to avoid a book to the face. It hits the door behind him and Stiles turns back in gleeful shock to watch what appears to be a complete disaster take place. 

Jackson and Lydia are stood in the middle of the library, facing each other and screaming. The noise is painful to Stiles’ fragile human ears and he winces. Erica is stood nearby, alternating between smirking at the couple and glaring at Derek, who’s got a tight grip on the back of her shirt. Isaac is backed up against a bookcase, hands over his ears. Stiles knows instantly that he’s the one causing the sort of book-tornado in the middle of the library. Bookcases are shaking everywhere and there’s a very low rumble reverberating through the whole room. Books are flying in every direction and the tables and chairs are all hovering a few feet off the ground. 

Stiles looks wildly around for Scott and spots him just as he steps out from behind Jackson. He pushes Jackson back and Stiles can almost hear the moment before it happens. Jackson snarls, shoving at Scott so hard that he goes flying backwards, narrowly missing Lydia and smacking his head on the table. He drops to the floor, unconscious at the same time as the windows on the far side explode. The glass flies out in all directions and Stiles can’t help but scream at them all to duck, throwing himself to the floor. 

There’s a loud thud and then silence. Stiles waits a few seconds, takes a couple of deep breaths and then lifts his head. The tables, chairs and books are all on the ground, but they’re scattered everywhere and the bookcases have tipped over, knocking each other down like dominoes. The air is full of dust and plaster from the walls and the floor is strewn with glass. He hears a series of groans and sighs with relief. 

It takes a few minutes, but eventually everyone’s standing and shaking themselves to get the glass and dust out of their hair. Scott grips hold of the table, one hand clutching is head, which is bleeding at the temple. Stiles winces in sympathy. Jackson and Lydia are refusing to look at each other, but both look pale and shaky. Isaac is whimpering in the corner. 

Stiles keeps his eyes on Derek, who doesn’t look hurt but does look angry. He ignores Erica, who Stiles is happy to see looks at least a little bit guilty. He knows she had something to do with this. Stiles is just thinking about going over to Derek-just in case he’s hiding how hurt he is or something, when Derek lifts his head.  
And stares right at Stiles. His eyes go wide and shocked, staring into Stiles’ and Stiles can barely breathe. He stares back for what feels like a lifetime but is probably just a few seconds. 

“Derek? Derek, can you see me?” He has to ask, he has to be sure. 

There’s a bang behind him and Derek jumps, eyes straying from Stiles to look at the door. Stiles barely hears Morrell and the principle shrieking and yelling, asking what the hell is going on, because he can feel it. 

He can feel the warmth of his power shooting up from his toes to his fingers. It swells within him and then bursts forth, wrapping around Derek. Stiles can feel it happen and he sees the moment when Derek frowns and his eyes go unfocused. He shakes his head, glancing left and right before he frowns again. 

Stiles feels his heart sinking and he stumbles quickly over to him. He stands in front of Derek, waving his hands around in front of him. He touches one hand lightly to Derek’s shoulder, but the boy doesn’t blink, just keeps looking behind Stiles’ head. 

Stiles closes his eyes and stands there in the middle of the devastated library, with his hand on Derek Hale’s shoulder and his heart doesn’t stop sinking until it drowns.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey people of earth, you like? Let me know what you think! Thank you!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of a difficult day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, I wish I didn't exist for a couple of hours, then I could skip work! Anyway, thanks for all the lovely comments! I apologise for not replying to them all, but im an extremely distracted and forgetful person. I got some enthusiastic responses though, and a friend of mine has taken to sending me texts about how evil I am for-well, existing really. She sent me one when I was in the cinema watching Thor 2 so I figured I better update soon :) I hope you enjoy it, it switches POV somewhere in the middle, thank you very muchly people of earth!

Stiles isn’t sure how he makes it home without collapsing. He catches an early bus from the stop near the school. One good thing about not existing is that you don’t have to pay for bus fares. It makes paying for other things, like groceries and clothes, a bit problematic. His Dad does most of the shopping. 

Stiles gets off the bus near his house and staggers up the drive. He feels drained and exhausted, both physically and mentally. His brain can hardly keep still, jumping from one thought to another with almost painful speed. His body tries to keep up with the movement, making his hands tap and twitch against his sides while his feet jerk in the most uncoordinated way possible. He feels like a puppet with frayed strings, like someone’s pulled too hard and left all his limbs shaking. 

The door shuts behind him with a quiet thud and Stiles leans back against it. Relief courses through him. His home is safe, he’s safe. He can’t quite believe how tired he feels; it’s like he’s just run a marathon when he knows he barely did anything. 

His Dad isn’t home yet and he probably won’t be back for at least a couple more hours. Stiles is well aware that he needs food before he falls asleep, so he trudges reluctantly towards the kitchen rather than straight upstairs to his bed. He does manage a grin when he sees there are waffles in the cupboard. He pops three in the toaster and rubs his eyes.  
Something about all of this seems familiar. He knows what magical exhaustion looks like and how it affects people; they have a whole class dedicated to it at school. It’s basically just an excuse to lecture everyone on keeping healthy and not doing drugs or drinking; all the normal issues. But there were some useful things in there that Stiles actually did pay attention to. He even took notes. 

Magical exhaustion is something that can happen to every single person with a power. Universally, everyone agrees that magic comes from the person, that your power is a part of you. There have been cases in history that show what happens when people try to take someone else’s powers, when they believe the power just floats around you, rather than within you. Almost all of those cases end in death and bloodshed. Trying to remove someone’s power is like ripping out someone’s DNA slowly, coil by coil. 

The magic is a part of Stiles though; it’s wired into his code and his blood and his nervous system. It works almost like another heart, like he has two; one to pump the blood around his body and one to pump the magic. Stiles likes this explanation best because it makes him sound like a Time Lord. The thing about the powers though, is that they require a lot of energy. Sometimes controlling them takes up a lot of energy and can burn through your strength. That’s what magical exhaustion is. 

It’s easy enough to fix though and Stiles might grumble a bit but, he still manages to eat the waffles without falling head first into sleep and his plate. Sleep is the next step and he drags his ass up to his room. He hesitates at the computer chair because he really wants to know what the hell is going on at the moment. 

Because something is definitely wrong. His name cropped up in school more than once. There were strange people in the garden that didn’t move like people. And Derek.  
Stiles doesn’t know what to do about Derek. He doesn’t know Derek. It’s kind of hard to get to know someone when they can’t get to know you. How do you have a conversation with someone if they can’t reply? But then, this afternoon in the library, Derek had seen him. Stiles is sure of it. He might not have got actual confirmation, like a nod or a sentence, but he doesn’t need one. The look of surprise and shock and confusion in Derek’s eyes was enough. 

But why Derek Hale? And why now? And, most importantly, why did he have to forget? 

Stiles groans and steers himself away from the laptop. His bed isn’t tidy or well-made but it still feels like crawling into heaven when he drags the sheets over him. He ignores the still-throbbing ache in his heart and the questions in his head in favour of sleep. 

 

Derek stands in the library with the uncomfortable feeling that he’s forgotten something. It’s like someone prodding in the corner of his brain with long fingers, nagging insistently at him. He rubs at his shoulder, which itches suddenly and then tunes back into Morrell’s rant. 

The library resembles the site of a tornado, which makes sense seeing as Isaac accidentally started one. The boy is still curled up in the corner by the knocked over bookshelves, looking tired and dazed. McCall looks even more dazed, but that might be the concussion shining through. Derek sighs. Morrell turns sharply to look at him.

“Am I boring you Mr Hale?” She sounds furious, but Derek has seen much worse. Most of his family is made up of females with extreme temper problems. 

“Quite frankly Miss Morrell, yes.” She opens her mouth to start yelling again, but Derek speaks over her. The feeling in the corner of his brain intensifies and starts to throb. 

“Look, I think there are more important things to be doing than standing around yelling at us, especially when some of us didn’t even do anything.” Headaches make him grumpy. 

“Oh, and what exactly is more important right now Mr Hale? Do you have homework you need to attend to?” The principle sneers. Derek has never liked the principle, a man called Mr Adams; he’s too much of a pompous idiot to take seriously. 

 

“Well, I was talking about the fact that one of your students has a concussion and another is currently going through magical exhaustion in the corner but, by all means let’s go through some maths problems shall we?” Derek says drily, raising an eyebrow. He feels a certain amount of satisfaction as both of the teachers mouths snap shut simultaneously. 

Morrell is the first to recover, unsurprisingly. She turns to Mr Adams, who pulls out the walkie talkies that all the teachers use. Derek can hear him calling the reception for an ambulance and a cleanup crew. 

Morrell then stalks towards them, ushering McCall into a chair when she reaches them. She glares at the rest of them before zeroing in on Derek. 

“Mr Hale, if you could tell me exactly who is responsible for all of this…” Derek rolls his eyes as Erica stiffens beside him. They’ve been friends for a while now, but ever since Erica got control of her power, she’s acted way more ridiculously than ever. He reels off Jackson, Lydia and Erica’s name and then stalks towards Isaac, ignoring Erica’s glare on his back. 

Two hours later, Derek is sat in the chair outside of the principal’s office. Isaac and Scott have been taken to hospital and Jackson, Lydia and Erica are inside the office. Derek is sure the angry shouting can be heard all over the school. He rubs his ears and then his shoulder, which won’t stop itching. 

He’s had a while to reflect over what happened and now he knows he forgot something. He’s gone over the events in his head repeatedly, but there’s something missing. He’s almost tempted to say that there’s someone missing, but that’s just ridiculous. He rubs his eyes with his hands and sighs. Maybe he’s just tired. 

He doesn’t even jump when the door slams open and Erica sails out, muttering viciously. He just sighs and stands, sweeping his bag over his shoulder. Erica holds hers out for him to take but he just raises his eyebrow back. 

“You can be pissed at me all you want, Im not carrying your stuff.” 

She snarls and her whole body seems to fizz with rage. Derek smirks. She turns on her heel and storms ahead of him like a black cloud, striding down the halls. Derek really wants to laugh as several students scatter and he almost does when he catches sight of one boy, who looks like he might wet himself. 

“You’re scaring the kids,” he drawls lightly and snickers. He knows it’s probably unwise to make fun of her when she’s like this, but he can’t help it. He knows she’ll start yelling in a second, but at least she waits until they get outside. They reach Derek’s car and Erica almost rips the door off trying to open it. Derek sweeps round to the other side and gets in, shutting the door and waiting for the words to flow.

Oh, do they flow. Like lava. 

“I can’t believe you! I had to sit in that stupid office for hours just because you decided to tell the damn teachers that it was my fault! What the hell, Derek? I’ve got a months’ worth of detentions with Harris and they’re making me attend the damn anger management classes! They even talked about me taking extra control classes. Seriously, what the hell is wrong with you? You’re supposed to be on my side!” She’s breathing hard by the end of it, eyes wide and angry. Derek can see the hurt on her face, but he takes a deep breath and starts the car before answering. 

“I am on your side Erica.” She scoffs disbelievingly, but Derek cuts over her. “I’m on your side but you were in the wrong. You shouldn’t have done that, you shouldn’t have baited Lydia or Jackson. You know damn well that those two are explosive at best and you provoked them on purpose. It was your fault.”

Erica still looks outraged, but there’s a small amount of guilt in her eyes. 

“I know I shouldn’t have done it but, they make me so mad. They both walk around like they own the world, like they’re better than everyone else.” 

“Yeah, I know, but you still shouldn’t have done it. Look what happened to Isaac and Scott; they’re both in the hospital.” 

Erica bites her lip and stays quiet this time. She looks smaller somehow and Derek sighs, takes one hand off the wheel to squeeze her hand. 

“Cheer up. A month isn’t so bad and anger management might actually be good for you. Look, we’ll go pick up Boyd later and order Chinese or something. Scott and Isaac will be fine, don’t worry. And just for the record, even when you do something completely stupid, Im always on your side.” He feels a bit awkward trying to comfort her and goes to take his hand away. Before he can, Erica squeezes back.

“And Im always on yours.” 

When he finally gets home at about ten that night, he heads straight to his room. He’d taken Boyd and Erica bowling and now he was seriously regretting it. They all got way too competitive. He pulls his school stuff out of his bag, looking reluctantly at the sheets for the group project. They didn’t actually manage to get any work done today, which means they’re all further behind than the rest of the class. Groaning quietly, he slumps at his desk and flicks the lamp on, studying the hand-out and the requirements for the top grades. 

He frowns.

The list of names is still written at the bottom, but there’s something different about it. The nagging in his head gets more persistent, bringing back a headache full bore. He blinks away the pain and focuses on the name at the bottom of the list.

Stiles Stilinski. 

Who the hell is Stiles Stilinski?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you like it? i hope so! Let me know? Don't be afraid to criticise!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smoothies and Asthma Attacks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Took ages to write, i'm so sorry! Anyway, no time for notes, am off to eat chinese food, omnomnom :D Thank you a billion trillion times to all the feedback, you're all beautiful! Hope you enjoy this! Let me know in the comments if you like it :)

Stiles is a bit confused. Actually, scratch that, Stiles is a lot confused. In the way that people are 80% water, aliens are 80% slime and the British are 80% tea, Stiles is at least 80% confused. Okay, so he made that one up about aliens, but it’s not as if there are exact statistics to look at. 

Basically, he’s confused. 

That might have something to do with the freak show happening in front of him. It’s surreal, like something out of a dream, maybe a nightmare, he’s not decided yet. 

The mall is crowded, but teeming with people the way it usually is on a weekend. Stiles likes the mall because of how busy it is. He likes that nobody’s ever paying attention to anyone other than themselves and maybe the people they’re shopping with. There are so many people, all looking everywhere at once and Stiles likes that because it feels like they’re looking at him. 

He’s leaning back against a store window, one selling shoes that even he can tell are extremely old-fashioned. He keeps his eyes trained on the smoothie shop, where his group for the project have all gathered.

They’re sat on those plastic chairs that look like they were specifically designed to dig into people’s backs. Stiles can’t hear anything from here but, he can see Lydia and Erica’s mouths moving, so he assumes they’re talking. Everyone looks just as awkward as they did in class but, Stiles counts it as a win because nothing’s exploding. Still, it’s weird. 

Jackson has an arm wrapped possessively around Lydia, but everyone else looks mostly relaxed. Stiles pushes off the wall and strolls casually towards the group. He can hear them now and he assumes they’re past the awkward apologies because now the talk has turned to the group project. He grabs a chair and spins it round, sitting between Scott and Derek. Scott has a cut on the side of his head which isn’t deep enough to need stitches and is slowly healing. He looks fine and Stiles claps him on the shoulder. 

“Look, it’s the only thing that makes sense, okay?” Lydia argues, tossing her hair impatiently. 

“What makes sense?” Stiles asks.

“Powers are personal! We don’t need to know each other’s, we can just focus on powers in general.” Erica looks frustrated, which isn’t any different to how she usually looks around Lydia. Isaac makes a small noise of agreement from the other side of the table. Stiles is getting used to this feeling of confusion, but that doesn’t mean he has to like it. He  
also really wants a smoothie. 

“Jackson, can I have your smoothie? It’s not like you need it, it probably goes against your princess perfect diet.” 

Jackson lets out a sigh. Stiles blinks before he realises that Jackson’s not sighing in him.

“Right, you two have been arguing over this for the past half an hour. We get that you both have issues with each other but, I’d like to enjoy the rest of my Saturday rather than spending it with you freaks.” 

Stiles snorts and jumps when Derek does the same. Scott sits up a bit straighter. 

“It’s not like we want to be here either. Morrell said we have to learn to like each other though, so that’s what we’re doing. Now just drink your smoothie and we’ll share our powers. We pretty much know what they are anyway.” Stiles grins at Scott, whose uneven jaw is clenched determinedly. That’s one thing that Stiles has always admired about Scott.  
Not his jaw. His determination.

Everyone looks about grumpily. Stiles gets it now though, he’s no longer worried about being stuck in an alternate reality. It does make sense actually, to share their powers, considering their project is on equality. Almost everyone in the world whose ever been beaten up or teased or humiliated, has been treated that way because of their power, or lack of power. 

Powers can be beautiful things. They can be used to heal and grow and protect. They can even save lives. Of course, they can also be deadly. People with mind control or power over certain elements think they’re superior to others, think that because their powers are destructive or dangerous, they have the right to be in control. It never ends well.

Sometimes, powers can just be humiliating. There’s a girl in Beacon High who can see gases in the air, tell what they are and follow the traces back to whoever put them there, which Stiles thinks is actually quite useful. It didn’t stop her getting teased all of junior year because she could see farts. 

Stiles actually thought that was kind of hilarious at the time. 

But people tend to keep their powers to themselves once they leave school. So yeah, while it’s true that most of Beacon Hills High know what everyone’s power is, through guessing or incidents throughout class; it would still be a good idea to know for sure. Well, a good idea for everyone else, seeing as Stiles already knows. 

“Okay, so you already know mine,” Scott says, playing with a straw, “but I’ll tell you all anyway. I can fly.” He practically beams at the end, puppy dog eyes flicking from person to person. Stiles shakes his head fondly and throws an arm out to steal Derek’s smoothie.

Derek flinches at the movement. 

Everyone gives Derek a few odd glances, but nobody says anything. Stiles cautiously moves his hand back. Derek's eyes flit all over the table around his smoothie, where Stiles’ hand was flailing just a few seconds ago. Stiles squeezes his own eyes shut, pushing the hope that flared brilliantly for a moment deep down into the dark. 

Lydia narrows her eyes at Derek for a few seconds before turning back to Scott. She looks thoughtful, calculative. 

“Scott, how powerful would you say you are?” Scott blinks in surprise before blushing slightly. 

“About average I think, why?” Lydia shakes her head slowly, slipping on an innocent smile that looks more predatory than anything else. 

“No reason. Now, I’ll go next.”

Stiles is still watching Derek but, he files away Lydia’s tone and question for another time. Maybe she thinks Scott’s more powerful than he’s letting on? It wouldn’t be surprising; none of them trust each other enough. 

“You’re a mind reader,” Erica says, rolling her eyes impatiently. Lydia grins back slyly.

“No, Im a Suggestive Mind-Reader.” The whole table blinks in confusion, minus Jackson and Stiles. Stiles is still staring at Derek. Admittedly, it’s more because Derek’s rather nice to stare at than because he thinks Derek just saw his hand. Plus, he already knows what Lydia can do.

“I can’t read minds yet, although Morrell thinks that might develop later, but I can put thoughts into peoples head if I get a good enough read on them.” 

“What kind of thoughts?” Isaac asks nervously, leaning back in his chair. Stiles watches Derek roll his eyes. They are really pretty eyes, he thinks, all different colours but still intense. 

“Any kind,” Lydia practically purrs in reply. Isaac shrinks back into his seat and swallows. 

“Dangerous, dangerous woman,” Stiles sighs. He watches Derek carefully, but the boy doesn’t react. Huh. Maybe Stiles isn’t being loud enough? He takes a deep breath, barely registering Jackson inform them all that he breaks stuff, which, yeah, okay maybe they were hoping for a little bit more than “breaks stuff”. 

He lets out the breath in a scream. 

The results are wonderful. 

Derek practically launches out of his chair like someone’s hit the eject button, an almost terrified expression on his face. The chair flies back and catches some innocent shopper in the queue behind them, while Derek flails about like a fish out of water. 

The rest of the table stare in open-mouthed confusion and shock as Derek whips his head back and forth, eyes wide. Stiles waits a full three seconds before bursting into cackles. His whole body shakes with laughter, both at the scene he’d just witnessed and the pure elation at the fact that Derek had heard him. 

He thinks he’s just found his new favourite hobby. 

 

 

Stiles is walking past the boys locker room when he hears a choked off sound and stops dead. The wheezes from behind the door are desperate and painful, stealing the breath from Stiles’ lungs. He winces in sympathy and puts a hand on the door. There’s nobody else around, everyone’s gone home for the day. Stiles knows he’s not going to be much use, but he has to do something. 

The door opens quietly, swinging inward and Stiles casts his eyes around. The smell of sweat and deodorant and weekly-washed socks fills the air. Another gasp fills the air, sounding like it scrapes all the way up the persons throat. Stiles drops his bag on the floor and rounds the lockers quickly, skidding to a halt at the end of the row.

Scott is hunched up at the end of the row, one hand scrabbling at his throat and the other grappling with the zip on his bag. Stiles lets out a shocked breath and scrambles towards the bag, falling to his knees next to Scott. He remembers something similar happening when they were little and it’s no less terrifying now. 

Stiles snatches the bag off of Scott, whose hand gropes uselessly at the air. He yanks at the zipper carelessly and the seam rips, spilling papers and books on the floor. An inhaler tips out onto the tiles and clinks to a stop. 

Stiles grabs it and shoves it towards Scott, who shakily accepts it, eyes glued to Stiles. He takes a few puffs and leans back against the wall, breathing hard but clearly. Stiles releases a shaky breath. 

He stares hard at Scott, who stares back. Stiles feels light-headed at the gaze. Usually people stare straight through him, but this one is fixed firmly on him, eyes full of what could be awe. Stiles clears his throat to say something, but for the first time in his life, words fail him. Scott beats him to it.

“You look familiar. Like, really familiar. In fact, I think I still have that picture of us somewhere in my room of us when we were little.”

Stiles shakes his head. “Probably not. All the photos disappeared around the time I did. You know who I am?”

“You think I’d forget my own best friend?” Scott says faintly, voice laced with bitterness and hysterical laughter. Stiles quirks a lip. 

“Well, if you ever did, it wouldn’t be your fault. Good to see you Scott.” Scott laughs again, still sounding hysterical.

“That’s my line.” He throws himself at Stiles and Stiles clings back, both toppling onto the floor of the dirty locker room, which rings with the sound of their uncontrollable laughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey hey hey, any good? I have a tumblr too, if you wanna say hello? archangels-have-feels-to is my URL, cant be assed to link it :3


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek might possibly be going insane and naturally, the first people to drag an explanation out of him are his sisters. And then they help him. Kind of. Oh and Scott makes a fool of himself!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why hello people of earth! I say "people of earth" often enough that i'm convinced I might actually be an alien. It really wouldn't surprise me, I just hope I came from somewhere nice, not a crummy planet called Blorsh or something. Anyway, I like writing Derek's point of view, not as much as Stiles' but still, here is a Derek chapter, although Stiles is in it, you just can't see him :) Which is kind of the point of this whole story. Anyway, enjoy the snark! Oh and thank you so much because ohmysweetbabyblorshling, I had a huge amount of responses and im so happy! Thank you and feel free to repeat the experience ;) Over and out!

“Derek, you have got to get out of the house.” Laura’s voice echoes down the phone. Derek can feel the exasperation seeping through the speakers and into his ears. He sighs, running a frustrated hand through his hair.

“It’s not healthy and normally I wouldn't care enough to put aside my extremely important dissertation and call you but-“

“But Mum went alpha on you.” Derek finishes, rolling his eyes. Laura makes a strangled noise which has his enhanced senses cringing. He hates the increased hearing because most of his family is female and they know all they have to do to piss him off is raise their pitch slightly. 

“No, Mum went Mum on me. She even brought out the fake tears.” 

“If you knew they were fake then why did you fall for them?”

“Don’t act like you wouldn't have done the same! Anyway, that’s not what I called for. What’s going on Der?” 

Derek chews his lip, chews over the words he could use to describe how he feels, but talking about feelings has never been his strong point. 

“That’s the thing Laura; I don’t know what’s going on.” He sighs and moves from his desk chair to his bed, curling his feet up beneath him and staring at the wall opposite him. It’s usually a completely plain wall, like the rest of the ones in his room, but now it’s completely covered. 

He tells her everything eventually. He talks about the group project and how bad his group are together. About the incident in the library and how he feels like someone messed around with his mind, because now he’s absolutely sure he’s forgotten something about that day, something important. How he got home and he saw that name written on the list, one that wasn't there before. 

He speaks about all the research he’s done over the past couple of weeks, walking over to the wall and trailing his fingers over all the work up there. Derek isn’t brilliant at research but, he is determined so the wall is covered in newspaper clippings on the Sheriff, articles on powers that could be involved in all of this and research on his own power. 

He’s circled the name Stilinski on every bit of information he could find, but there’s nothing on Stiles. It could just be a fluke, he admits to his sister, or a prank, but it sure as hell doesn't feel like one. 

The last week has made it feel like a prank though, he tells her, the growl evident in his voice. He’s heard shouts and screams and tiny snorts of laughter. It’s all faint and barely there, but the noises are real. He knows they’re the same voice but, he can’t find who they are. 

“Maybe it’s just your power developing? You've always had pretty good hearing anyway, maybe it’s getting stronger.” Laura suggests, but Derek doesn't need enhanced senses to hear the doubt in her voice. He shakes his head anyway and carries on.

“There’s movement too, I keep seeing tiny flashes things, like someone’s waving a hand in my face. And sometimes I swear I can feel someone poking me in the side.” The words are coming quicker now, desperate to escape the cage Derek usually keeps them locked away in. It’s not that he doesn't talk a lot, it’s just that he doesn't talk about himself, or things that matter to him. 

“Derek, what are you saying? You’re saying something’s following you, something you can’t see? Something evil?” Laura sounds worried now and damn it, Derek never meant for that to happen, but he can’t deny that he’s a bit panicked too. He hates when his family worries though. He sighs heavily and rubs his forehead. Talking about all of this has made him tired. 

“I don’t know Laura. I know there’s something there, I just don’t know what it is or what it wants. It…It doesn't feel evil though. It’s almost like, like it’s messing with me or, like a pixie or fae or something. Something tricky. I don’t think it wants to hurt me though. If it’s even real. Who knows? I could just finally be cracking.” Laura snorts at that and then sighs too. 

“Wait a second, what did you say that name was again?” Derek narrows his eyes, but Laura can’t see them so it doesn't really make much difference. 

“Stiles Stilinski,” he says slowly. Laura hums thoughtfully, and Derek is suddenly reminded of Lydia. Derek doesn't like Lydia, does not like that she acts as if everyone is beneath her but he can’t deny that she has a very sharp mind. 

“Stilinski? Isn’t that the Sheriff’s last name? And there’s no record of him anywhere?” 

“Yeah. I can’t find anything about him online or anywhere else either.” There’s a small second if silence from the other end and Derek winces. “You have a plan, don’t you?”

Laura makes an offended noise and then an affirmative one, which has Derek groaning in dread. 

“Oi! You wanted my help, didn’t you? Look, first of all, you’re not exactly a tech genius Derek, so it doesn’t surprise me that you can’t find anything online. Your sister on the other hand, literally is a tech genius. So, go and ask Cora to use her Computer powers or whatever they’re called and dig up any information she can on this Stiles person. And maybe bring some chocolate or something, as a bribe.” Derek shakes his head in amusement. 

“You really think that after all these years I don’t know how to bribe you two?” he deadpans and if he’s grinning ever so slightly, then neither of his sisters can see, so it doesn’t happen. 

“Just checking. Anyway, while she’s doing that, you can go and see the Sheriff.” Derek sits up, about to protest, when she cuts him off. “No, Derek, I get that you don’t like being around people, but a little social interaction won’t kill you. Just go and talk to the Sheriff and ask him if he’s heard of this Stiles person. It’s not exactly a common name, now, is it?” 

“I think it’s Polish.” Derek says, already getting up to go and find Cora. 

“Thank you for that riveting piece of information there Derek,” she snarks in return, “but now I have to get back to my dissertation, okay?” Her voice softens now, turning fond. 

“Look after yourself and stop moping about in your room, it’s not good for you. I’ll be home at Christmas, but if anything happens, fell free to call.” Derek replies in kind and lets her go. 

 

Cora isn’t in the house, which is irritating but not exactly surprising. He focuses carefully until he gets a read on her heartbeat and then yells a goodbye to anyone in the house.  
He doesn’t have a car yet, but it’s not that far into town by bike. 

Fifteen minutes later, Derek is staring across the street in town at the window of a coffee shop and wondering what the hell McCall is doing. He blinks a few times, but nothing changes. 

Derek guesses he’s seen weirder things. He has lived with Laura, after all, who once thought that it would be nice to turn every single room in the house a bright pink color.  
Derek still doesn't know how she did that either, seeing as Laura’s power is telekinesis. Also, he goes to a school with a bunch of superheroes. 

Still, there’s no denying this is ever so slightly strange. 

McCall is in the booth nearest the window, having what appears to be a fascinating conversation with the seat opposite him. His arms fly all over the place and Derek thinks he sees him hover a little bit in excitement before returning to his chair. 

Shaking his head, Derek parks his bike in the spaces outside the park before crossing the street. His sister is in the coffee shop too, surrounded by her friends. 

Laura and Cora have always been popular. When Laura was in Beacon Hills High, she had a whole entourage of people that followed her around everywhere. It’s another way she’s similar to Lydia, except that Laura actually liked the people she hung out with and didn't try to hide any part of herself. Cora is a couple of years younger than Derek, but there’s no denying that she’s much better at school than he is. Not that he doesn't have friends.

He has the people on the basketball team to talk to and laugh with, although none of them are really close. Danny’s pretty cool as well and there a couple of girls in Derek’s Healing class that he talks to regularly. The only people he’s really close with are Erica and Boyd. 

Derek comes to a stop outside the window, raising an eyebrow at Scott through the glass. McCall catches his eye and blushes, as if he’s only just realized how ridiculous he looks. Derek shakes his head and then walks towards the door.

The coffee shop is never very busy, but for all that it seems to do well. It’s comfortable and the soft yellow lights make it seem warm and inviting. It’s not exactly cold out, but it’s getting closer to winter, so hot drinks are a lot more welcome than they would be in the summer. They also do delicious pastries, which Derek eyes in the glass counter at the front before resolutely turning away. He has a ridiculous sweet tooth, which Erica always exploits when she wants something from him. 

McCall is staring at him from the booth, dark cheeks still a little flushed with embarrassment. Derek tilts his head and then narrows in on the side of the boy’s head, where an earpiece is noticeable. Derek frowns because he can’t hear anything from the device and surely if that’s why the idiot was being so weird earlier then it would actually be working right now. Derek catches Scott’s eye and then taps the side of his own head. 

“I think you might want to turn that on,” he says dryly, before turning to the counter and asking for a plain coffee. He thinks he hears a snort behind him and the faintest whisper of “boring”. He tries to stop his shoulders from tensing up and keeps his gaze on the barista, who fumbles with the cup nervously. 

Someone taps him on the shoulder. 

He whips round quickly, but there’s no one there. Growling under his breath- a habit which his whole family mocks him for- his eyes sweep over the shop. He catches McCall’s eyes, which are wide with shock and confusion, but they flick away to his right after a second. Derek is just about to growl again when he spots Cora. She’s staring at him avidly from the booth two along from Scott’s. She points to the seat opposite her and he nods. 

Derek pays for his drink and hurries over to Cora. 

“What in the hell was that?” she asks blankly. They both inherited the same dry humor and deadpan from their Uncle Peter and their Dad, who are the most dry people Derek has ever met. Laura once called them “people-shaped toast” when they were little. 

“Nothing important, doesn't matter. I do need your help though.” He says, sipping on his drink and cursing when he scalds his tongue. He shivers when he hears a small laugh from beside him. 

“I can’t tell if that drink was hot or cold from your reaction,” Cora says, raising an eyebrow. “What do you need help with?” 

“I need you to look someone up on the computer for me. It’s kind of urgent.”

“You know, Derek, I’m pretty sure even you can handle that. Google is not exactly rocket science.” She says lightly. Derek shakes his head. 

“That’s not what I mean.” He says quietly and Cora sits up. They have a small conversation via eyebrows and head-tilts that anyone else would think was insane, but they understand perfectly. In the end, Derek pulls out a pleading expression and slides a chocolate bar out of the pocket of his leather pocket and into Cora’s waiting hands. She grins at him. 

“Alright, you've got yourself a deal. Who is this mystery person then?”

“His name is Stiles Stilinski.” Derek grabs a napkin off the table and Cora hands him a pen from her pencil case. Her stuff is all over the table, so she must have come straight here when school ended. Her laptop is, as always, next to her. He pauses for a second because the air next to him suddenly feels cold, almost empty. He frowns at his own thoughts; of course it’s empty, there was nothing there before. 

He scrawls down the name in blue ink and shoves it at Cora, who takes it and then frowns herself. 

“Surely you could see that the pen wasn't working Der? Anyway, I’m hardly likely to forget a name like that.” She starts typing immediately and Derek slowly reaches forward to grab the napkin. The blue ink shines wetly on the material, but only to him. He screws it up in his fist and stuffs it in his pocket. 

“I’ll leave you to it then, call me when you find anything, yeah? And I really do mean anything.” 

Cora waves a dismissive hand and he walks away, the slight hope that she might find something dwindling with every step he takes. He bypasses McCall and leaves. Outside the coffee shop, the air is fresh and clean-a lot colder than it was inside. He zips up his jacket, feeling chilled all over, barring his shoulder, which has barely stopped tingling since the library. He’s taken to rubbing at it when he gets nervous. 

He goes to walk across the street but pauses and turns back. Through the window he can see Cora and his heart skips a beat. Her laptop is closed and her eyes are glued to the pages of a textbook. He grits his teeth in frustration and heads for his bike. 

Laura had said to go and see the Sheriff, so that’s what he’s going to do. He will figure this out, whatever this is, no matter what he has to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is a chipolata a dance move or a tiny mutant sausage? My friends and I cannot agree. I swear its a dance move! Anyway, I hope you enjoyed that one, the next one will be a little bit from the Sheriff's POV, then Derek's and then Stiles'! Woop woop! Criticism? Compliments? Comment! :D


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there are feelings, Scott is a moment-ruiner (in the best way) and The Sheriff is indecisive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know what? I don't even know man, I just started writing and my brain went, "oh, let's try and write actual feelings," which is not a good idea because aliens are not familiar with human emotions. I absolutely adore anyone who even glanced at this story and huge thanks to all you people of earth, you're all fantabulous! (Oh my jesus, has anyone heard "I see fire" by Ed Sheeran? I need to watch The Hobbit right this goddamn second!) I hope you enjoy this :3 Oh and I lied, you only get Stiles and the Sheriff's POV's in this :D Thank you!

Not much has changed at Scott’s house since Stiles was last there. There are new photographs on the walls, although Stiles’ favourite will always be the one of a five-year old Scott in a Spiderman costume, thumbs up for the camera and a goofy smile on his face. He remembers seeing that picture years ago and the hour-long debate that followed over which comics were the best. Stiles finds it strange that even though half the world is made up of super-powered people, people still spend so much money on Marvel and DC. 

“Everything looks the same,” Stiles murmurs. Scott bumps him with his shoulder, nudging him towards the kitchen. Stiles kicks off his shoes and leaves them by the doormat, moving out of the way so that Scott can shut the front door. He throws his bag down by Scott’s and starts walking. 

“Mum’s not here, she’s working today, so we don’t have to worry about her thinking im going insane.” Scott grins, opening the kitchen door and flicking on the light, even though it’s not really that late and the sunlight is still streaming in through the window. Stiles lowers himself into a chair, humming in reply. 

“You know, you’re taking this surprisingly well.” Stiles says, narrowing his eyes at Scott, who shrugs carelessly. Stiles chases stray salt grounds across the table with the tip of his finger, waiting for Scott to speak. Eventually, Scott sighs and comes to sit across from him, pushing a pack of biscuits across the table. Stiles takes two gratefully, brushing the salt off his hands. 

“I can’t say I ever expected this. I don’t know what kind of power you have, but it’s pretty strong. I honestly never missed you, I never even realised there was someone to miss.” Scott, bless him, actually looks guilty about that, as if it was his fault that he’d been made to forget. 

“Don’t give me that look!” Scott protests and he startles, unaware that his face was apparently making expressions without his permission. “I know it’s not actually my fault, but it still feels like I should have done something, I should have remembered you somehow. Isn’t there supposed to be some gaping hole in your life when someone important to you leaves?” 

“I guess,” Stiles says slowly. He doesn’t like talking about this stuff but, he doesn’t want Scott to feel guilty for something he has no control over. Stiles might be a bit of an asshole at times, but he does have a heart. Plus, it’s Scott. He takes a deep breath. 

“When my mum…left, it felt horrible. I think maybe, maybe I was numb at first, or in shock, but I know I didn’t really feel anything for a while. She’d been sick for a long time and we all knew she was dying. She tried to make it better for me at first, make it seem like she would get better. Like any day now someone powerful enough would come along and heal her, and we could go home.” Stiles doesn’t know why he’s saying all this, these aren’t the right words. He isn’t meant to be talking about this, but Scott just keeps looking at him and the words won’t stop. 

“She was so full of _life_. It was kind of hard to watch really, because her body was dying and getting weaker, but she was just as strong and bright as ever. And then she, then she wasn’t full of anything. She just died. Whatever it was that made my mom herself; it just wasn’t there anymore. It did kind of feel like an empty space, or a lump in my throat and I guess I just had to get used to breathing around it.” He straightens his back, stares at Scott firmly. 

“That was different though. This is a completely different situation. It’s not your fault, it’s not anyone’s fault Scott. It happened, you forgot, everyone forgot, but now you’ve remembered. We’ve just got to breathe around it.” He adds quietly, a small smile on his face.

There’s a bit of silence as they both chew over each other’s words. The words have always felt like splinters on his tongue before, burying themselves deeper and deeper until it was impossible to talk about it. Now he feels a kind of relief flood through him, like someone’s pulled the splinters out or ripped off the band-aid. 

There’s a loud crunch suddenly and Stiles jerks his head up, staring at Scott. He looks absolutely horrified. 

“Oh God, I’m sorry, I think I just ruined some kind of moment but I was really hungry and these biscuits looked nice so I just thought…” he trails off awkwardly, wincing and Stiles barely lasts three seconds before bursting into laughter. 

“Your face is _brilliant_ ,” Stiles wheezes, grinning even harder when Scott starts to chuckle. 

“Thanks, although even Allison isn’t usually that enthusiastic,” Scott grins, standing up and cracking his back. “Want to drink tons of fizzy drinks and blow up zombies with me?” 

Stiles pretends to think about this for a minute. “Only if there is also junk food provided,” he says. Scott nods solemnly, looking almost offended that Stiles would doubt him. They immediately race to the front room, fighting over controllers while Stiles determinedly pushes any and all thoughts of his mum and Derek from his mind. 

 

The sheriff gazes down at the papers in front of him. The words are starting to blur slightly, but to be honest they didn’t make that much more sense a few hours ago. Nothing about this case makes sense. 

He glances at the clock and frowns. Its later than he thought, seven rather than six, and he thinks he’s forgetting something important, but he can’t quite remember what it is. John thinks for a few seconds and when he does remember, something cold sinks down into the pit of his stomach. 

Stiles. _It’s always_ Stiles. 

John hates this, absolutely hates that Stiles’ power tries to make him forget his own son. So far, he’s always been able to remember, but if he isn’t actively talking to or looking at Stiles, then the boy is only at the edges of his mind. He sighs and pushes all the papers back into their file, no closer to figuring any of it out than he had been when he started. He stands up and heads out to the front desk, making sure to lock up the office before he leaves. 

Marie is at the desk, scribbling away at some form of paperwork that makes the Sheriff wince just looking at it. She smiles wryly at his expression and waves him away. 

“I’ve got this Sheriff, you go home and put your feet up. Have a nice night.” 

John lightens his tone so that Marie doesn’t have to listen to him and raises a hand in farewell. “You as well Marie, don’t work too hard now.” 

It doesn’t take long to get home, although he’s shocked to see that the lights aren’t on. Usually when he pulls up, Stiles is in the kitchen, dancing around to some horrible music and making dinner, or just making a mess. The Sheriff prefers being the last one home because that way he doesn’t have to hear Stiles hesitate before calling out a greeting, like he’s waiting for the day when John doesn’t answer. This way he can say hello first. 

But Stiles isn’t here. 

John steps out of the car and heads for the porch, then freezes halfway to the steps.

Stiles isn’t here, but someone else is. 

It takes a few seconds of panic and then training before calm washes over him. The boy on the doorstep is familiar enough that John knows not to worry about him being a threat. Not that Derek doesn’t look like kind of threatening for a teenager, John thinks, eyeing the boy’s eyebrows in particular. 

“Evening Derek. Comfortable?” Derek unfreezes from his place on the doormat and gets to his feet, admittedly in a much more graceful way than the Sheriff was expecting. Most teenage boys haven’t grown into their limbs enough to be that graceful, although maybe he’s just used to his sons level of awkward. 

“Sorry Sir, I was hoping to talk to you and I didn’t realise it had gotten so late.” John spots movement out of the corner of his eye and catches sight of Stiles at the end of the drive.  
The Sheriff deliberates for a moment before gesturing to Derek. 

“That’s alright son. Let me just get the door and we can go in and talk,” he makes his voice warmer, altering it slightly to allow Derek to relax. The boy’s shoulders droop slightly in relief and he rolls his neck, nodding with a smile. 

John ushers Derek into the living room and then says something about putting the kettle on. He finds Stiles in the kitchen and tilts his head. Stiles looks different. He opens his mouth to talk when Stiles shakes his head. 

“Wait Dad, you can’t talk okay? This isn’t me being a typical disrespectful teenager or something, it’s just that Derek has enhanced senses. He’ll hear you even if you whisper, so he might find it a little bit weird if you suddenly start talking to yourself.”

John nods slowly, taking the information in. It’s surprising to hear actually, seeing as most of the Hales have a lot more active powers, although there’s no doubt that enhanced senses would be extremely uses in some cases. He wonders if Derek has ever thought about joining the police force when he registers Stiles talking.

“You’re probably gonna have a lot of questions and I give you permission to use your interrogatory face later, but right now all you need to know is that my power’s sort of…failing. Not in a bad way, don’t look so shocked, I swear I’m fine!” Stiles babbles the rest of his explanation out hurriedly, arms waving this way and that as he explains his day and the events leading up to it. John is torn between bundling him into the car and driving him to the hospital right this second, complications be damned, and throttling Stiles for keeping all of this to himself for the past few weeks. 

Apparently Stiles can sense his indecision because he flicks the kettle on and then sprints out of the room, throwing out a “talk to you later, daddy-o!” over his shoulder. John fumes while the kettle boils and then pauses thoughtfully as an idea pops into his head. He could be a mature, responsible adult about this, or he could have a little fun with it.  
He stirs the coffee and grabs both mugs, heading into the front room with a decidedly wolfish grin on his face. He almost cackles when he imagines the look on Stiles face when he comes downstairs to see just exactly what John is telling Derek. 

Oh, this is going to be so much fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again! Oh and if anyone is feeling a bit down today then hopefully this will make you laugh; today I had a human biology exam, which I was already nervous about. I went to the study centre to start the test and sat opposite this girl in the only available seat left. Approximately six seconds later, she burst into hysterical tears for no apparent reason and fucking launched herself away from me and out of the room. I have no idea what the hell I did wrong but i fell off my chair in shock and the entire room just stared at me like I stabbed her. I swear I did not stab her. Anyway, thanks again! Happy reading!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Sheriff exacts his revenge and there are some sad moments.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I apologize to all people of earth for the cliff-hanger last time, although I didn't actually realize it was a cliff-hanger :) Second of all, you're very lucky to be getting a chapter at all this week, seeing as i'm currently concussed, but shush. Apparently, even aliens aren't immune to giant-ass metal lockers that, I swear, come out of nowhere! Thirdly, thank you very muchly for the response to the last chapter, it's muchly appreciated! Please don't hate me too much for this chapter, I hope you enjoy it friends :D

The coffee is warm and welcome, but the Sheriff’s face is not. Derek thinks there might be some kind of evil lurking there. It makes him shift uncomfortably in his seat, although there’s nothing uncomfortable about this couch. The walls are painted deep reds and the couches and carpets are a cream colour. It’s light and open, but feels more soft and homely than modern. 

“My wife did most of the decorating,” the Sheriff murmurs, so quietly that Derek isn’t sure he’s supposed to hear. But there’s no one else in here to answer, so Derek nods. He knows about Mrs Stilinski, knows what happened to her. 

Very suddenly, he remembers the women from the diner in town. It had been a little place, barely noticeable but, very obviously well-cared for and clean. Claudia Stilinski had worked there for as long as Derek remembers going. He vaguely recalls her bright smile, the scattering of sunspots across her face. She always smelled like rain on a clear night.  
Derek smiles sadly in remembrance and looks over to see the Sheriff sporting the same expression. 

“It’s nice in here,” Derek says, his voice awkwardly loud in the quiet. It’s like the sound of throats clearing in the library, or a shout of laughter in a Cathedral. Noises always sound louder when they’re supposed to be quiet. The Sheriff looks over at him.

“Ah, I’m sorry about that, son.” The Sheriff looks a little bit guilty and Derek twists his face in confusion. “I may have let my power get the better of me there, just for a moment.” The sheriff jerks his head in apology. “That happens sometime, if I say something sad without meaning to, it just sort of transfers to everyone else.” 

“It’s okay sir, I don’t mind.” Derek shrugs. 

The Sheriff nods, smiling and the tension bleeds out of the room. Derek sips at his coffee, even though he prefers it with less milk and thinks nervously over what to say.  
Apparently, the Sheriff decides to take the decision out of his hands, for which Derek is somewhat grateful. 

“So then, you had something you wanted to talk to me about? I assume it’s something to do with my son?” Derek freezes and almost drops the coffee mug on the floor. His heart beats faster in his chest, as he places the mug down on the table. 

“I didn’t know you have a son,” He says carefully, eyes fixed on the Sheriff’s. The Sheriff sighs deeply, raking a hand through his hair. 

“It’s rather a long story, but if you’d like to hear it, then I suppose I have the time.” Derek hesitates before nodding, heart tightening painfully in his chest, as if a giant fist is squeezing it slowly. The Sheriff nods and leans back, eyes flicking a little over Derek’s right shoulder. Derek resists the urge to turn around. 

“Okay. Well, first thing’s first; I did have a son. My wife, Claudia, was Polish and decided to name the boy after her grandfather. It was a very long name and I don’t actually know how to pronounce it, so we nicknamed him Stiles.” The first around Derek’s heart loosens slightly as he inhales shakily and then resumes its grip. “Stiles was a very…problematic child? He was restless, always moving about and getting into trouble when he went to school. He was so distracted as well, and we got so many calls from his teachers that eventually we decided to home-school him.”

Derek blinked in surprise as a small breeze brushed the back of his neck. He shuddered and rubbed at the skin there, which tingled slightly. The Sheriff raised an eyebrow at him, but Derek said nothing in reply. The man had a very soothing voice and it was easy to get caught back up in the story again. 

“We home-schooled him until he was old enough to go to high school, but by then he was more troublesome than ever. Always pulling pranks, mouthing off to the teachers…” The Sheriff trails off thoughtfully before he says, “I think he may have started a fire once, or at least been involved in starting it.” The man shakes his head sorrowfully, looking kind of defeated.

Derek honestly doesn’t know what to say except to ask where Stiles is now. He thinks Stiles sounds like a complete asshole. He also regrets asking the question when the man in front of him sort of wilts, sadness visible in every line on his face. 

“I’ll admit, the kid was a pain in my ass, but I loved him.” Derek’s eyes widen in panic and horror as he catches onto the past tense. Loved. As in used to love. Shit. 

“He’s dead?” The words kind of whoosh out of him, along with the breath he’s been holding for what feels like an hour. The Sheriff nods sadly, but then he offers up a small smile, which is not what Derek is expecting in the least. 

“Yeah, I’m afraid so. I’m sorry if that’s not what you wanted to hear. He’ll always be with me though, in spirit.” Derek nods awkwardly, shifting around again. The room goes quiet and now that the Sheriff isn’t speaking, Derek feels tense. He fidgets with his hands before grabbing the coffee mug, downing the cold liquid in one and standing up slowly. The 

Sheriff seems mildly surprised by the sudden movement, but just stands with him and offers to show him out. Derek declines hurriedly, apologising and thanking him in the same sentence before practically sprinting to the door. At the end of the driveway he pauses, thinking he hears laughter coming from the house. 

All at once Derek feels drained. He’s tired and confused but his feet don’t seem to want to stop. His mind wanders aimlessly, as his body leads him towards the park a couple of blocks from the Stilinski house. He heads towards the swing set, breathing in the evening air with a calm that surprises even him. 

He lowers himself onto the swing and frowns grumpily at the bark on the floor, trying to think of a time in his life when he wasn’t so confused. Nothing makes sense anymore. 

The sheriff hadn’t answered any of his questions because Derek hadn’t gotten the chance to ask any of them. The story has kind of blown any questions that Derek did have out of the water though. He wants to know why Stiles’ name was on the hand out and why there’s no mention of him anywhere on any of the systems. He wants to know why Cora couldn’t remember talking about him. He wants to ask about the itching feeling and the long invisible fingers that tickle his sides and ruffle his hair. All this person is to Derek right now is a stretched out foot that trips him every time Derek gets close to an answer. 

“I just want to know if you’re real,” he groans, placing his head in his hands. In his head, the words sounded normal. Out in the open air, they sound desperate, frustrated and a little bit insane, if he’s being honest. Derek lives in a world of superheroes and villians and humans; he doesn’t know why all of this seems quite so impossible and confusing, but it does. 

Derek frowns suddenly. 

“Superheores,” he says out loud, tongue wrapping around the word as if it’s a foreign taste in his mouth. “Superheroes with powers.” There’s another breeze somewhere to his left that sounds a little bit like a sharp breath. 

Derek scrapes the toes of his shoes against the ground and thinks. He can feel his phone buzzing with texts from Cora, no doubt asking where he is. Or, well, her version of asking, which is basically just reassurance that if he’s actually been kidnapped or killed by some stray monster, she’ll make sure he gets nice flowers at his funeral. Laura tends to use a lot of emoticons and capital letters in her texts. His mum never texts, she calls, which is why Derek always answers if his phone rings. 

Stiles Stilinski went to Beacon Hills High. If what the Sheriff said were true, then he definitely attended the school before he died. 

“So, if you died, then why can’t I find you anywhere? There’s no trace of you on the computers and you’re not in any of the stuff I’ve looked at. And I swear you’ve been following me,” It occurs to him then, that he is essentially talking to a dead person. He stares fruitlessly at the place where the breeze is strongest, but the empty space if just that; empty space. He’s so frustrated he could cry, but he doesn’t. Instead he stands and marches towards the path that takes him to the preserve. He has no idea what’s going on but, so far everything has just been dead end after dead end. 

He starts home, the half-moon in the sky a comforting light in the darkness. 

 

Stiles stares at his Dad as the door slams shut behind Derek. The man looks vaguely shocked and a little guilty. It’s pretty much exactly how Stiles is feeling, except Stiles is also pissed off. He knows it isn’t fair to be mad at his Dad, not when his Dad only did this because he was mad himself. Still, he shouldn’t have taken it out on Derek. 

“What the hell did you do that for? In case you didn’t realise, I’m not dead! You think you’d notice that, seeing as I’m your son and everything.” Stiles fumes, waving his arms around spectacularly and heading for the door. 

“Stiles! I’m sorry; I wasn’t expecting him to leave so fast. I would have told him the truth if he’d stayed.” Stiles scowls and then deflates. 

“It’s fine Dad, don’t worry about it. I’m going to follow him for a bit, make sure he’s alright.” He steps forward and hugs his Dad, promising to talk properly later before rushing out of the door. He spots Derek just down the road, heading through the gate for the park. Stiles knows there’s a path to the preserve in the park, but there’s also a quicker way for  
Derek to get home. Frowning, Stiles jogs after him, arms crossed against the chill of the air. 

The sight of Derek on the swings breaks Stiles’ heart a little. He has one hand wrapped loosely around the chain, which squeaks slightly. His head is bowed down, but Stiles can see the expression on his face. Derek looks lost. He comes to a stop just to the left of Derek, leaning against the pole of the swings. The paint of the poles is a faded red, peeling in places and covered with black marker pen. Stiles tilts his head just as Derek lowers his into his hands. 

“I just want to know if you’re real.”

The words cut deep into Stiles and he winces. For all he’s been messing around with Derek, he hasn’t actually thought about the way it might be affecting the boy. They were just supposed to be pranks, jokes, little things to laugh about. It doesn’t seem quite as funny now. 

Stiles gasps when Derek starts talking again. More because of the words than the shock. Superheroes with superpowers. It’s not like Stiles can tell what Derek’s thinking, that’s Lydia’s specialty, and it’s kind of a leap to think that Derek might be guessing about Stiles’ power, but still. Still. 

“So, if you died, then why can’t I find you anywhere? There’s no trace of you on the computers and you’re not in any of the stuff I’ve looked at. And I swear you’ve been following me,” Stiles closes his eyes against the wave of guilt and sadness. And yet he can’t quite bring himself to wish he hadn’t done all of it, because if he hadn’t, Derek wouldn’t be that much closer to finding out about him. 

And then there’s the realisation that Derek’s really been looking for him. It’s not just a passing whim that he mentioned to his sister and thought about occasionally. He honestly wants to know who Stiles is. And now…now Derek thinks Stiles is dead. Damn. 

Derek seems to glare at the space near him, like he’s looking for Stiles there, or looking for answers. Stiles bites his lip and watches Derek leave, hands shoved in his pockets and head tilted back slightly to the sky. He looks ethereal in the moonlight and Stiles doesn’t want to call him pretty or beautiful, or anything else because it sounds meaningless and fake. Not to mention Derek probably wouldn’t appreciate the very feminine terms, although Stiles is all about gender equality. Wait, no, that’s not the right phrase-

Something growls behind him.  
He whips around, tearing his eyes from Derek’s retreating back and shock almost knocks him over. The park is cluttered with figures. They’re the same people that were in his garden that morning. They look stretched, skin a deep blue that blends in with the shadows around them. They look flat, almost two-dimensional and they’re features look into their skin. Stiles doesn’t know what kind of creatures they are but, he knows they’re trouble. 

There’s one near the swing that Derek just vacated. His black clothes are identical to the ones that the other figures are wearing. He can’t call them people, not when they’re clearly anything but people. It’s eyes seem to protrude out of its face, the grey-white colour of fog. It growls again, the sound guttural and curling from deep in its throat. Its eyes cut sideways and that’s all the warning Stiles has before something flies at him. 

His head collides with the pole, small flakes of red paint following him as he hits the ground, shadows wrapping around his unconscious mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fourthly, I am eating some absolutely beautiful food and I don't understand how it can taste do good. Seriously orgasmic food right here! Anyway, you like it? Absolutely love it? Feel the beginnings of hate for me? Love you too, let me know! Oh and Happy Christmas!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reunions of the Stilinski kind and Derek in a towel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Years Eve people of earth, or New Year, depending on where you are! I have a necklace caught in my hair and i just bought six avengers posters with my christmas money, so that was fun :D Anyway, here's the next chapter, although to be honest, i'm looking forward to the next one even more! There will finally be proper explanations and actual plot-type stuff :D I hope you like it, and as always, thank you ever so very much for the responses to the last chapter, i love hearing from you all. Aliens get a little lonely up here in our separate spaceships! Happy Reading, Happy New Year and hope you had a Happy Christmas! Basically, be happy.

Stiles wakes up on the front porch. At least, he thinks it’s the front porch. He blinks several times, not enjoying the small flashes of pain that shoot through his head at the movement. He stares up at the beams of wood that make up the porch and wonders how much it’s going to hurt when he finds the strength to sit up. 

Surprisingly, it doesn’t hurt at all. He shifts into a cross-legged slouch on the hard wooden floor. He feels a little like the air’s full of treacle, thick and unrelenting, pushing back at his movements and making him sluggish and slow. He decides not to stand just yet. Instead, he stares out over the neighbourhood. His father’s cruiser is parked in the driveway, which is good because it means his Dad’s home. It’s also a bad thing, because it’s the middle of the day and Dad wasn’t supposed to get the day off until next Tuesday, which means Stiles has probably been gone for about four days. Maybe longer. 

He’s just about to struggle to a standing position when the door opens behind him and Dad steps out. Stiles makes a surprised noise and jumps, but Dad doesn’t notice. Stiles thinks this is a bit weird, considering he’s sat right in the middle of the porch and there’s no way Dad hasn’t seen him-

No.

Stiles scrambles up immediately, heart pumping loudly in his chest. He can hear his breath coming in desperate gasps as he surges forward, standing right in front of Dad, who’s just turned away from locking the door. The man frowns slightly, narrowing his eyes at Stiles’s face, but pretty obviously not seeing it. 

“Oh God, no, please Dad, you can see me. You can see me, I know you can, it’s me, it’s Stiles, please. C’mon Daddy-o, I’m right here, look at me! Please.”

Dad doesn’t even blink, just sidles past Stiles the way most people do when he’s in their way, and strides towards his car. Stiles stares, stricken, at his Dads back, still mumbling under his breath. He sways and rubs at his face, realising absently that he’s crying when his hands come away wet with tears. 

He doesn’t know what to do. It’s his Dad. His Dad has always been able to see him. Sometimes, when he comes home, he’s sure that the man’s forgotten about him, forgotten he exists, but then he gets a smile, or a nod, or usually an eye-roll and everything’s okay. Everything is fine and good because his Dad can see him, of course he can, except now he can’t and Stiles doesn’t know what to do. 

The car starts and Stiles leans back against the door, head light and eyes wide in shock and panic. He can’t get any air in his lungs and everything is starting to blur. He shuts his eyes against the whirl of colours and sways slightly. He can hear the blood rushing in his ears, but it’s not loud enough to drown out the sound of the engine, which has suddenly stopped or the slamming of the car door. He hears racing footsteps and then something barrels into him, almost toppling Stiles to the ground. 

Stiles’ hands come up automatically to grab Dad’s jacket, curling white-knuckled around the fabric. He bites at the skin of his lip and buries his face in Dad’s chest, trying to slow his breathing. Dad shifts them backwards slowly towards the door, murmuring apologies in Stiles’ ear, arms wrapped firmly around him. Stiles feels the man shaking, although that could just be him. 

“C’mon Stiles, let’s get you inside.” Dad might not be shaking, but his voice definitely does as he opens the front door, hauling them both in the house and heading for the couch. Stiles makes a small sound when Dad goes to pull away, but the Sheriff just shushes him reassuringly. 

“It’s alright kid, I’m just going to grab you some water and a blanket, I’ll be right back.”  
Stiles uses the minutes he spends waiting to slip off his shoes and rub away any lingering tears. He feels too exhausted to move any further than that but his brain is racing with questions. Stiles assumes its running on relief because he certainly hasn’t got any energy to spare. 

He accepts the water and blanket that Dad brings him with a grateful, if slightly watery smile. He hates crying and doesn’t do it if he can help it, but the past few weeks have been hard. Crying always leaves him with cotton for brain cells and a bad taste in his mouth. Needless to say, he tries to avoid that. 

Dad sits next to him on the couch, eyeing him worriedly. Stiles thinks he also sees a bit of guilt in his expression, which is just ridiculous. 

“It’s not your fault,” he blurts out tiredly, before his dad can speak. “It’s not even slightly your fault, so don’t make that face.” The Sheriff shakes his head, looking pained. 

“Stiles, I forgot you. How is that not my fault? I forgot you.” 

“That’s not your fault. It’s my stupid power.” He sighs, bundling further into the blanket. He inhales deeply and immediately regrets it. The blanket smells like it’s been hanging out in the back of a musty wardrobe for eternity. It’s not the nicest of smells. Apparently this shows on his face, because his Dad snorts with laughter. Stiles frowns though, because that sounded pretty hysterical to him. He turns to face Dad and tries for a smile. 

“I think it’s because I was gone for a while. I’ve never been away for more than a day really, so I’ve always been here to remind you that I’m here. So it’s not your fault.” His Dad levels a look at him and Stiles winces. 

“Why exactly were you gone for a while?” That right there, is a question Stiles doesn’t want to answer. Like really, really doesn’t want to answer. He shrugs a shoulder and smiles weakly at Dad. 

“Well, if you want to be technical about it, I was kind of, maybe, sort-of kidnapped?” Stiles only has a second of stunned silence to prepare himself before his Dad explodes and then launches himself at Stiles, cursing and yelling questions at him while gripping Stiles like he’s all he has left. 

Which, Stiles guesses, he kind of is. 

 

The Hale house is absolutely massive. It’s in the middle of the preserve, which is a pain to walk through when you’re immensely tired and feel like you have jelly for limbs. Stiles regrets waking up this morning. He thinks Dad probably regrets Stiles waking up as well, seeing as the first thing he’d said was that he was going to break into Derek’s bedroom and he hopes that isn’t a problem. Dad had just sighed and lowered his face towards his cereal. Stiles admits he was slightly worried about Dad trying to drown himself for a second, before the man just banged his head against the table. 

Stiles trudges towards the front steps and then stops. He won’t have a problem with being noticed, but it might be a bit of a problem opening a locked door. Hopefully, there is at least one Hale here and he won’t have to scale the house to get through a window. Only one way to find out, he thinks. 

The door is unlocked, thankfully, and Stiles opens it carefully, closing it from the other side. The inside of the house is even more impressive than the outside. It’s all wood floors and soft lighting, with lots of windows and modern looking furniture. He stuffs his hands in the pocket of his jumper, remembers Dads words to be careful and “for the love of  
God, stay safe or you’ll never leave this house again.” He wouldn’t put it past his Dad, so he promised to avoid anyone giving out a kidnapper vibe. 

He steps through to the end of the hallway, where a staircase leads to the first floor. He can hear giggles and soft chatter from a room nearby but as much as he wants to investigate, see what kind of family the Hale’s are, he thinks it’s a little more important to find Derek’s room. 

He finds it, eventually, after a close encounter with Derek’s sister, Cora. Not that the girl noticed him, but she did notice when her door slammed open and hit the shelf, knocking everything onto the floor. To be fair though, that wouldn’t have happened if the Hales hadn’t put such slippery wooden floors down. Completely their fault.  
In Derek’s room, Stiles comes across another problem. He stops dead in the doorway, trying valiantly to keep his eyes off of Derek’s back, which is very, very visible and wet. Derek rubs a towel over his hair, small droplets of water running very slowly down the back of his neck. Stiles absolutely does not want to lick them away. Or bite at his shoulder. Maybe kiss his way up to Derek’s ear and-

Stiles makes a noise like a dying animal and slaps a hand over his eyes. This is not a good time to be fantasising about Derek’s delicious body, even if it is all freshly showered and right there for him to stare at. Stiles has work to do. He peeks between his fingers to look about the room, but Derek’s turned around now and that opens up a whole new realm of possibilities for Stiles. He makes another noise, louder this time and Derek’s head snaps up from where he was unfolding a shirt. 

His eyes find Stiles’ and he drops the shirt, shock and anger seeping into his gaze. Stiles jolts in surprise, dropping his hands completely. 

“Who the hell are you?” Derek growls, taking a threatening step towards him. Stiles thinks it’s amazing that the guy can look so menacing in just a towel, especially considering how water apparently makes his hair go all curly at the ends. 

“Wait! Don’t kill me, man, I swear, this is all a big mistake. I didn’t realise you’d be in here!” He immediately regrets his choice of words and backs up against the wall, arms raised in defence. Derek prowls towards him, almost snarling. His eyes look almost red in the light. 

“No! That’s not what I meant! Look, I-I don’t know how to explain this okay, but my name’s Stiles! Stiles Stilinski.” 

Derek stops abruptly from about two steps away. He doesn’t look quite so terrifying now and Stiles feels safe enough to lower his arms. He doesn’t back away from the wall. 

“That’s not possible. You can’t be Stilinski.” There’s something vulnerable mixed with the disbelief on Derek’s face and Stiles feels his heart cartwheel in his chest. He thinks for a second, biting his lip, and Derek’s eyes dart down to his mouth. They flick quickly back up again a second later, guarded and dark. Stiles forces back a blush. 

“Okay so, first, I’m not dead, although I know my Dad told you otherwise. This is a bit of a long story and you probably won’t believe most of it, although it’s not that much crazier than all the other stuff your super-powered family deals with on a regular basis. But, uh, still, it’s a long story, so you might want to sit down. And, uh, maybe put on some clothes? Just cause, you know, I don’t want you to get cold or anything.” He says quickly, aware that he might be rambling but at least he’s staying somewhat on topic.  
Derek quirks an eyebrow at him and stays silent. Stiles shifts around a bit before he realises Derek needs a little more convincing. 

“Okay. You remember about a week or two ago when you were walking back to your car after school and there was this puddle? Yeah, your face says you definitely remember that.” Derek growls at him and clenches his fist. 

“I take it you were the reason I went home absolutely soaked and covered in mud.” Derek grits out. 

“Hey, woah now! I never said that!” Stiles says, waving his hands around, but Derek still looks kind of murderous. 

“There was no one around at the time and I’ve never seen you before now, how else would you know unless you were the one who did it? Have you been doing all the other stuff as well? Is it part of your power then? Or are you just naturally an asshole? And why the hell did your Dad tell me you were dead?” Derek doesn’t shout, but he does hiss at Stiles lowly through his teeth, which is somehow scarier than if he’d yelled. Stiles rubs at his face and throws his hands out. 

“Look, I can explain everything, but please, just trust me when I say it’s a long story, okay? If you’ll just listen for a second, I promise I’ll tell you everything.” He stares at Derek pleadingly, eyes fixed firmly on Derek’s. Eventually Derek sighs and shakes his head. He doesn’t say a word, just walks across to the bed and grabbing his clothes off the duvet cover. He bends down to pick up the shirt he dropped and Stiles feels his cheeks heat up. He averts his eyes and waits for Derek to stand back up before sitting down on the desk chair. 

Derek smirks at him before leaving and Stiles curses silently, blushing hard and torn between whether he wants Derek to hurry the hell up or never come back. Vaulting out of the nearest window is an option too, Stiles thinks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woooooaaaahhhh, what did I write? :) idk guys, it seemed alright, but you tell me :) I'll be here, eating melted chocolate and dying with anticipation! Next chapter up soon (i apologize for how long this one took) so i'll speak to you all then! Thanks again friends :3


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Okay, so you might want to sit down, I told you it's a long story."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good morning, good evening, good afternoon people of earth! Idk what the times are wherever you are, but it's almost seven in the evening where I am :) I don't know why that's relevant either, but i'm not that big on relevance. Anyway, I know this isn't a very long chapter, but i'm working on a longer story at the moment. Us aliens aren't that good at multi-tasking though, so I apologize if everything takes a while. Also, thank you very much for all the responses, I love seeing kudos and comments in my inbox, they looks so pretty :3 Oh and ASDFGHJKL how many people died after the new episode!!!!!???? I had to search long and hard for a link because it doesn't actually air over here, but tumblr is so helpful :D i can't wait for next monday! It was brilliant! Anyway, hope you enjoy this chapter, I just churned it out so it might not be that good, but I hope you like it anyway :) Happy reading!

Derek takes a moment to breathe. The bathroom is still clouded in steam from his shower but it’s warm and quiet. Of course, nothing is ever really quiet for Derek. He can pick up sounds from the next town over if he tries hard enough, although everything is a little distorted and it leaves him drained for a couple of hours afterwards. It’s easier to pick up sounds that he’s familiar with.

So it’s extremely easy to pick up the sound of Stiles’ quiet panic next door. He tilts his head towards the room, focusing on the boy. 

His breaths are quavery and a little bit shallow, but not quite gasps. He isn't desperate for air, just full to the brim with nerves. Derek can hear the erratic tap of fingers against a screen, probably a phone. There’s a rustle of clothes as he shifts about and Derek can taste the sharp tang of anxiousness on the back of his throat. 

He braces his hands against the sink and breathes deeply, trying to block out the sounds. His powers aren't offensive, although he knows how to fight, but he had to learn to control them all the same. Usually, children are taught to control their powers from a young age, but Derek had always been so fascinated by what he could hear and see and smell that he never paid attention in those classes. He learnt later on, when Mrs Morrell had a stern word with him, but he prefers to keep his senses open. 

The boy’s heartbeat- Derek still isn't’t entirely sure that it is Stiles Stilinski- spikes suddenly, and Derek decides to hurry up. He knows the boy isn't in danger, but he can’t help but react to the change like he would with anyone. He throws on his clothes, face burning suddenly at the reminder that he’d basically cornered the guy in just a towel. The blush fades in time for him to leave, throwing his towel near the wash basket in the way he knows mum hates because “ _it’s not helpful Derek, you might as well put it in the damn garden for all the good it does_.”

Swift tapping of a computer keyboard comes from Cora’s room, and the tinny music from her earphones echoes in Derek’s ears, so he knows she won’t be disturbing them any time soon. Not that she would because as irritating as his sisters are, they do have some idea of what the word privacy means. They also know that Derek could eavesdrop anything they say without even moving, so that helps a little. 

Carefully, Derek opens his bedroom door, zoning in on Stiles, who’s hunched over on Derek’s bed, elbows on his knees and head on his hands. He mutters something, running a pale, long-fingered hand through his hair and Derek clears his throat. Stiles jumps comically, wide amber eyes focusing on Derek. 

“So, how do you want to do this?” Derek just barely keeps his grin at bay as Stiles splutters, no doubt misreading his words. “Is something wrong?” he asks innocently, trying to look puzzled. 

“Who, me? No, nothing wrong here! Just, uh, hanging out,” he leans back on his arms, slips on the covers and lands sprawled on his back. There’s a second of stillness wherein Derek tries not to laugh at his horrified expression and Stiles closes his eyes in despair. 

“Aright, can you hang out and talk at the same time? Apparently, you've got some stuff to explain.” He doesn't phrase it as a question, but his voice lilts up at the end in a way that could be considered one, or maybe just sounds hopeful. Stiles nods hesitantly and then rubs a hand over his eyes. 

“Okay, you might want to sit down, I told you it was a long story.”

Derek doesn't answer, just strolls to his bed and sits down, leaning his shoulders against the headboard and facing Stiles. He almost smiles at the bright red hint to his cheeks, but the atmosphere is a little tenser with anticipation now and smiling doesn't feel quite right. 

“Right, so, I don’t know where to start. And don’t say the beginning, because that is just cliche and boring.” Derek snaps his mouth shut and rolls his eyes, gesturing for Stiles to get on with it. 

“You already know my mum died, I heard Dad telling you about it. That’s when my power kicked in. We went to the therapist, but no one could see me and they wouldn’t believe Dad when he told them I was there, they thought he was the one that needed help. Then we went to power specialists and hospitals, but no one knew I existed and no one knew I was there, even when I did crazy stuff, like throw food at the nurses and set off the fire alarms in the ward.”

Derek lets out a little laugh. Stiles gives him a weak smile in return, seeming grateful for the effort. He has a face for smiling and it kind of tugs a little at Derek to see him look so sad. He doesn't know this boy, but it’s obvious he's had it pretty bad. 

“Anyway, basically no one could tell us anything, and there wasn't any record of me on anything when we looked into it.” Stiles continues. “I guess Dad decided we’d have to work it out on our own, seeing as nobody else could help us. I remember him being practically glued to the computer for at least two weeks before he found anything. I think it was his way of distracting himself from Mum being gone. I didn't really have that luxury, considering there’s not much you can do when you can’t go to school and your friends don’t remember you.”

“Hang on,” Derek says slowly, sitting up straighter, “what do you mean? You said no one could see you, not that they couldn't remember you?” 

“Sorry, it’s kind of hard to explain,” Stiles huffs, sounding frustrated and rubbing at his forehead. He shifts on the bed, his jeans scraping against the sheets. “It’s not that I’m invisible, it’s that I literally do not exist. I think there’s probably some kind of official name for it, but I can’t find anything online and there’s obviously no one that I can ask who has experience with it.”

“So, what, it wiped everyone’s memories of you? Your Dad said you were home schooled-” 

“I wasn't home schooled,” Stiles interrupts, waving an arm around and looking, for some inexplicable reason, fondly exasperated. “My Dad was having you on when he said all that stuff, I’m not really dead.”

“ _Really_. I’m so glad you explained that because I had absolutely no idea.” Derek deadpans, even as Stiles seems to realize he’s said something completely stupid. He waves his arms around in protest as Derek smirks widely. 

“I know that! I just, I was just making sure that you knew I was real. Not like a ghost or something,” he shrugs, grinning at Derek. Derek reaches over and pokes him hard in the stomach, earning him a yelp and a baleful glare. 

“What? Just making sure you were real.” He says flatly. 

“Ha. Ha. I'm laughing hysterically on the inside, you have no idea, like I think I just broke a rib. Actually, I think you broke a rib,” he rubs at his stomach and gives Derek a reproachful look, which he ignores.

“So why did your Dad make all that stuff up? And have you been in Beacon Hills High all the time?” 

“He made it up because I kept some potentially life-threatening important stuff from him and then told him all very fast while you were in the house so he wouldn’t be able to yell without you hearing?” Stiles spits the words out quickly, but it’s impossible for Derek not to hear him. 

Blinking, Derek stares at Stiles, trying to decide which part of that sentence pisses him off more. Before he can even open his mouth, Stiles is apologizing loudly, holding his hands out the way he had before when he had tried to convince Derek of his identity. 

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry about that, I never meant to use you at all, even if you didn't know about it or anything or you didn't get hurt. I just figured it was a bit of a joke.” 

“Didn't get hurt?” Derek says incredulously. Stiles mouth snaps shut. “I may not have gotten physically hurt, but it was kind of a pain to think I was going crazy? You were my only lead! Your dad lied to me because of what you did and I thought that was it, I thought you were dead!” 

“I know and I’m sorry, I should not have done it-”

Derek doesn't let him finish. Weeks of confusion and frustration and worry are boiling up inside of him, exploding forth now that he finally knows that this isn't a lie. He finally has the answers right in front of him, in the form of a seventeen year old boy who apparently thinks this whole thing has been a joke. 

“Sorry for what? Sorry for using me so that you didn't get in trouble with your dad? Sorry for letting him tell me you were dead? Or sorry for the weeks of tripping me and poking me and talking to me, the weeks I thought I was actually going insane?” He doesn't remember standing and he certainly doesn't remember shouting, but apparently he doesn't have any kind of control any more. He hears rushed footsteps and calls from all over the house and rushes to grab his phone. He waits until his family opens the door and yells into his phone, throwing it away from him and onto the bed. Stiles watches it bounce on the covers, face bloodless and stricken. 

“I am sorry for all of it. There’s nothing about these past few weeks that I am not sorry about. I don’t have any excuses but,” Stiles bites his lip and stands, looking helpless and determined at the same time. Derek turns his back, facing his family and reassuring them that everything’s fine. 

“It’s fine mum, don’t worry, just an argument with a friend.” He smiles at mum, who frowns but nods, ushering everyone away and smiling gently at him. 

“I think it’s a pancake kind of day, don’t you? Come down when you’re ready honey,” she says, before heading out, closing the door gently behind her. Derek unclenches his fists and tries to relax, hearing Stiles move behind him. He doesn't turn around. 

A hand comes up to grip his shoulder and it’s warm, familiar. All the tension bleeds out of him at the touch. 

“Derek? I really am sorry.” Derek nods, feeling a little blank. He’s not angry anymore, he just wants to know _why_. 

“I have been at Beacon Hills High since the beginning. I was at primary school as well, with everyone else. No one could see me, not even the teachers, but I was still there. My power made my best friend forget that I exist. The only one who knew me was Dad and I wanted it that way at first. It got a bit lonely after a while though, and I've been trying ever since to get someone to notice me. You’re the first one to do that. I know I took it too far, I know I should have done it differently, but I just wanted you to notice me.” The hand on his shoulder squeezes once and Derek sighs, turning around.

Stiles is much closer than Derek thought. Derek could probably count each of Stiles’ eyelashes, if he were so inclined and a small part of him thinks he might be. Stiles offers him a tentative smile and Derek returns it hesitantly. 

“Okay. I don’t forgive you, not yet and I still have questions for you. Actually, I think I might have some answers about your power as well, if you’re interested? Mum’s making pancakes, so maybe you could stay for a little while?” 

Stiles’s eyes widen and from Derek’s vantage point, he can see the little flecks of colour in the amber irises. He really needs to back away now, before he creeps Stiles out. 

“Yeah, no, I would definitely be interested, in all of that, please. Thank you. What?” Derek snorts and steps back, breaking the moment and gesturing to the door. Stiles blinks several times, shakes his head a little and then grins cheesily. 

“So, pancakes? Will there be syrup or cream? Because pancakes without syrup is a crime, but pancakes without cream is treason Derek, treason.” Derek wrinkles his nose at that because he has an extremely sweet tooth, but he hates cream with a passion. He says as much to Stiles, who makes a noise like someone stabbed him. 

“Oh God, the pain. Make it stop Derek, take it back! Wait, where are you going? Oh right, pancakes. Wait for me, I don’t trust your stupid wooden floors any further than I can throw them, they are slippery.”

“You’re going to throw our floors?”

“No, I'm not going to throw your- it was a figure of speech Derek, God!”

“My last name is Hale actually, but God works.”

“I can already tell this is going to be a beautifully horrible friendship.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realised how long my first note was, so sorry for that :D did you enjoy this one? Feel free to let me know and also, feel free to message me on http://archangels-have-feels-to.tumblr.com/ if you like :3 (i don't know how to link) Thank you friends!


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We have actual answers to questions in this chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> People of earth, i am insanely jealous of anyone who actually gets to watch teen wolf tonight, as opposed to finding some crappy link at ass o'clock whenever so that i can actually see what happens, rather than finding it all out on tumblr. (http://archangels-have-feels-to.tumblr.com/) Still, I hope you enjoy it all anyway. I loathe you all. Okay, that was a lie, i love you all, which is why i'm updating now rather than doing my homework. Again, that was a lie, i'm just prone to procrastination. Also, thank you thaNK YOU Thank you for any and all responses to my last chapter, much hugs to you :D Not many chapters left now, but i hope you enjoy this one!

“So, you said you had some answers for me?” Stiles says later, once they’ve finished munching on syrupy, creamy plates of pancake goodness. He loves pancakes, although waffles are a close second. Actually, any kind of breakfast food is okay in his book.

“Yeah, about your power. I tried to get Cora to research you, so I could find out more about who you were, but she didn’t remember having the conversation.” Derek looks uncomfortable as he talks, like he knows it sounds creepy when he says it out loud. Stiles generously decides to ignore that and simply gestures to the computer screen in front of them. 

“Is the art of Google too much for you? Had to get your little sister to type it all out for you? Are you one of those people who says “on the line” instead of online, because that is just unacceptable Derek.” When in doubt, revert to teasing and deflect. Derek snorts at him, expression clearing as he logs onto his server. 

“I know how to use Google. Why does everyone think I’m technologically impaired?” Okay, Derek muttering under his breath is officially the most adorable thing Stiles has seen him do. Derek looks kind of wounded, as if the implication really hurts him and it’s enough to make Stiles smother a laugh against his palm. 

He straightens hastily, coughing into his fist when Derek glares at him. 

“I bookmarked a few pages online that I think might be useful to you. They’re just speculation, but a couple of people might actually be onto something.” 

Stiles leans towards the screen, ignoring how close that brings him to Derek and winces at the colour scheme. It’s a discussion blog-something Stiles has never really paid attention to, since they all seem to be made up of theories instead of actual facts. He’s all for theorising, but not when there isn’t anything to back the theories up with. 

“The ability to enter into a state of non-existence,” Stiles reads aloud. He can hear his heart trip over itself and shudders. 

“It’s called Nigh-Omnilock, although people refer to it as other things as well. At first I thought it was just a made up power, but there are several links to other pages that look like people used to believe it was true.” Derek says, clicking on a few links. 

“What do you mean “used to”? Do they not any more?” Stiles frowns at the screen and Derek shrugs. 

“I guess they never found any proof and the idea lost base. I mean, it’s hard to find proof of someone who doesn’t exist.” 

“You did,” Stiles says quietly. Derek’s eyes catch his and his hands pause on the mouse. That is something Stiles would like an answer to. Derek didn’t know Stiles before his power came into play, not like Scott did. They didn’t have an unbreakable connection like he does with Dad. So why exactly, was Derek the first person to realise he existed? Even if he didn’t remember it at the time, surely there had to be a reason.

“Do you remember the library?” Stiles urges, leaning even closer. Derek watches him intensely, sensing the change in his tone. “There was that day when everything basically went to hell in the library at school. Erica pissed off Lydia and Jackson and Isaac practically blew the place up.” Derek nods and Stiles watches his face. There’s no flicker of emotion, other than confusion. 

“Did you feel any different after that day? Did anything bother you or did you feel like you’d forgotten something?” Stiles gestures helplessly, not sure why this is so important. He just knows that he needs to know. He needs to know if Derek remembers that day. Judging by the look on Derek’s face, he doesn’t. 

Stiles sighs, dropping his head into his hands. It hits hard, but he doesn’t know why. Obviously Derek wouldn’t remember seeing him; it had only been for a minute or so. He hears Derek’s sharp intake of breath from above him and then Derek is tugging urgently at his wrist. Derek’s hand is warm, wrapped tightly around his. The air tumbles out of Stiles’ mouth in a sigh. 

“I saw you,” Derek breathes softly. Stiles snaps his gaze up and meets Derek’s shocked eyes. “You were there, in the library,” Derek continues, his voice sounding distant even as his gaze if very much fixed on Stiles. “You shouted at us all, told us to duck. I remember you being there. You were wearing plaid again, and you had this hopeless look about you, like you couldn’t do anything to help. You looked so shocked when I looked at you.” 

“So would you if no one besides your Dad had looked at you in years.” Stiles grins brilliantly, feeling elated. He wonders if this is how Scott feels when he flies and decides that no, this is much better. Derek returns the grin and Stiles soars even higher. 

There’s a moment of silence that Stiles doesn’t want to turn awkward. They just had an honest to God moment there, and Stilinski’s do not do moments. At all. Ever. 

“So, what do we know about Nigh-Omnliocks? Aside from what’s written here of course.” Stiles is more or less talking to himself, but it beats staring into Derek’s eyes like they’re going out of fashion. Not that eyes tend to go out of fashion-they’re pretty much a permanent thing for most people. Although he wouldn’t be surprised if someone out there had the power to make theirs disappear or something; you get some really weird and wonderful abilities. Which reminds him-

“How far have you got on the group project thing by the way?” Derek looks confused, as if he’s trying to work out how Stiles got from one question to another. Stiles is used to the way his mind jumps from thought to thought, though he guesses he’s going to have to get used to explaining himself now that there’s someone there to hear him. 

“I’m not sure. I haven’t really seen the rest of the group recently, and I’ve been a bit distracted lately.” He eyes Stiles pointedly and Stiles pulls a face in return. He pulls the mouse away from Derek and clicks through to an article on Nigh-Omnilocks. He frowns, scrolling down until he reaches the section describing his limitations. 

“Some of these don’t fit,” he mutters, pointing at the screen until Derek starts to read, “It says I can’t interact with anything in the physical world.” He pokes the computer screen, proving the words wrong with just the smallest gesture. 

“Maybe it’s not definitive? Maybe you can advance to this level of control?” Derek suggests, frowning uncertainly at Stiles. Stiles shrugs; he doesn’t know, but he thinks he knows someone who might. 

“Can you print these pages off? The whole article, preferably. We’ve got a few people to interrogate.” He stands up, dusting imaginary lint off of his shirt and grabs his hoodie. He catches Derek’s raised eyebrow and grins innocently. 

“What? Word has it you have a car and we need to get to these places fast. Well. No actually, we don’t need to get there fast, but I would appreciate a little extra speed.”

“I feel the need,” Derek deadpans and Stiles gapes at him, eyes wide in his head. Derek grins shyly all of a sudden and stands up hastily. Stiles fist pumps the air when Derek turns to pick up shoes from by the bed. He almost whoops, but manages to resist the urge in time for Derek to sit down on the bed and start pulling on his sneakers. They’re nothing like Stiles’ converse, but he’s willing to forgive Derek for that, since he knows Top Gun and provided Stiles with pancakes.

“So, where are we going then?” Derek asks, standing up and tugging on his leather jacket. It’s a nice jacket, a soft faded black that looks well-worn and comfortable. Stiles has one, but it just looks like something he found in his Dad’s closet and shoved on, like a kid playing dress-up. 

“Well, first we have to go to Scott’s and then-”

“McCall’s? We have to go there?” Derek demands, storming out after Stiles, who’s already halfway down the stairs, having forseen Derek’s reaction. He shoves a finger against his own lips and waggles his eyebrows at Derek. 

“Shush Derek, you wouldn’t want your family to hear you yelling at nothing. They might think you’re unhinged. They’d be right, but still, it’s best they live in ignorance.” He clutches a hand dramatically over his heart and pretends to swoon on the stairs. He doesn’t miss the way Derek darts his hands out to catch him, aborting the movement when he realises Stiles is just being an idiot. It warms him all the way to his toes. 

Clearing his throat, Stiles leads the way out of the house and down the steps, before he stops at the end of the drive. 

“Now that, that is a beautiful car. Like, seriously, that is the car of everyone’s dreams, I don’t care who you are, you have to love this car. It is law.” He slaps a hand on the bonnet to punctuate his point and then strokes the paintwork, apologising in soothing tones. He can hear Derek snorting at him and practically feels the strain from Derek’s eye rolling from here, but he just doesn’t care. This car is a masterpiece. 

“Are you going to get in this masterpiece or just keep molesting it?” Derek drawls as he unlocks the car and pulls open the drivers’ door. Stiles sighs, patting the hood fondly and ducking inside. 

The drive to Scott’s is pretty uneventful, if you don’t count the part where Derek threatens to smash Stiles’ head against the dashboard if he switches the radio station one more time. Which was a challenge that could not go unaccepted, obviously. Derek didn’t smash his head against the dashboard, but he did slap Stiles’s hand away and keep the radio on the country station as punishment. 

Stiles also texts his dad to let him know he’s alive and hasn’t been kidnapped by any monsters recently. Stiles needs more information before he can tell for sure but, he has an inkling of what they could be. Or at least, what they used to be. 

At Scott’s house, they come across a small snag in their plan. Several snags actually. For one thing, there are several cars parked in the driveway and the doors are all open, which means people are either just arriving or Scott’s about to leave. Either way, it’s unlikely that they’ll be able to steal Scott and see if he can see Stiles. Or even remember seeing Stiles. 

The second snag is in the form of Lydia Martin, who’s standing on the McCall doorstep, hissing loudly down her phone and gesticulating sharply with her hands. There are taut lines of anger all across her face and Stiles winces, hoping that the person on the other end of the line is just Jackson and not anyone he actually cares about. 

Derek parks the car on the side of the road, unable to get anywhere near the actual house. Stiles is completely confused. “Why is Lydia at Scott’s house?” Stiles queries, glancing at Derek, who’s frowning in concentration. 

“Not just Lydia,” he grunts, unbuckling his seatbelt, “Isaac, Erica, Boyd and Allison are there too.” Stiles stares incredulously at the house before grinning. 

“Why are you smiling like that?” Derek asks warily, one hand on the door handle. Stiles shrugs and opens his own door. 

“If they’re all there, then that must mean that Lydia’s ripping Jackson a new one.” He’s not ashamed to say he sing-songs it a little bit. Jackson is a complete dick. Derek rolls his eyes, but a small smile twitches at his lips. Apparently Derek doesn’t like Jackson either, which isn’t surprising.

They head up the drive together, even though only Derek is actually visible. It takes a few seconds for Lydia to notice them since she’s too busy calling Jackson every name under the sun, but eventually her head snaps up and her expression tightens. She snarls something into her phone before hanging up, slipping it into her purse with an extraordinary amount of dignity for someone who was just swearing like a sailor. 

“Where have you been?” She demands, glowering at Derek. Stiles is supremely glad that Lydia cannot see him. Derek growls back, hunching his shoulders. 

“I’ve been at home, what’s it to you?” 

Erica flounces out of the house then, beckoning Boyd and Scott after her. She’s wearing some kind of leather outfit, but Stiles doesn’t really think she needs it to appear intimidating. Or attractive. He tunes Lydia and Derek out in order to laugh at Scott. He looks like a pebble next to the mountain that is Boyd, practically whimpering as he heaves three large crates towards the cars. He leaves the other two arguing and walks over to his best friend, who shoves the crates in the boot of the nearest car and collapses against it with a huff. 

Stiles pokes him in the face. 

Scott doesn’t do anything except scrunch his face up a little bit, which is adorable, but not the reaction Stiles had been hoping for. Still, it had been a long shot anyway. If his Dad hadn’t seen Stiles after years of spending every day with him, then there’s no way Scott would remember him after just an afternoon spent with each other. It still hurts though, and Stiles flinches back from the painful squeezing feeling in his gut. 

“I have to learn to control this,” he whispers. 

Gently, a hand that could only be Derek’s touches his shoulder. Stiles wants to tell him to stop, seeing as Derek probably looks like a bit of an idiot, standing with his hand wrapped around nothing. Although, there’s a faint chance that the rest of them won’t even notice.  
Scott gives Derek an odd look before clambering into the back of the car, shutting the door behind him. Derek steers Stiles back towards the Camaro, avoiding Lydia, who’s still fuming on the front step. Erica and Boyd are too busy flirting to see them and Isaac hasn’t come out of the house yet. 

“Why was Lydia pissed off?” Stiles asks lightly as Derek starts the ignition. Derek just shrugs, which is stupid, because Stiles is never going to let this go. Turns out he doesn’t have to do much waiting though. 

“She arranged an outing for our group project last night. I didn’t ask where they were going, but I told her I had more important things to worry about at the moment. She didn’t take it well.”

Stiles cracks up. “I’m not surprised. Lydia cares a lot about her education. How did you get away alive?” Derek smiles wryly.

“I told her I was doing some side research for the bit about rare powers. She calmed down a little bit after that.”

Stiles shakes his head fondly and then directs Derek left, rather than right. 

“We’re not going back to the house?” he asks, turning the steering wheel anyway. Stiles shakes his head again determinedly. 

“Afraid not Der-Bear, you’re stuck with me for the rest of the day!” He dodges the swipe Derek aims at his head, cackling maniacally. 

“Never. Ever. Call. Me. That. Again.” Derek punctuates each word with a swing at his shoulder. Not all of them miss Stiles, which is why he covers his mouth with his hand instead of just laughing right in Derek’s face. 

“Where are we going then?” Derek snaps, still glaring. It isn’t the worst glare Stiles has seen on his face though; it’s not even the worst one Derek has aimed at him. His laughter fades but the grin stays firmly on his face as he answers Derek. 

“We are going to the Vet Clinic. I need to have a little word with Deaton about his sister. Well, actually, you need to have a little word with Deaton about his sister, since I’d basically be talking to a wall. Still, we need to go to the Vet’s.” 

Derek sighs and slaps Stiles hands away as he reaches for the radio, sticking it on the classical station and turning the volume up to drown out Stiles’ whines of dismay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, look, there was some actual real-life plot! Also, how many of you would watch me if i made a You-Tube account? Oh and I just made a twitter account, if you wanna rant at me, but i'm not very good at it and i only have one follower (https://twitter.com/Cococranberries) but still. feel free! Thank you! Enjoy Teen Wolf tonight :3


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One of them rushes Derek, who roars, his hands clenching around Stiles’s hips. Stiles croaks out something incoherent, eyes on the figure right in front of him. Derek’s grip slackens suddenly and a thump reverberates around Stiles’ skull. He wants to reach out to Derek, who’s lying prone on the floor, but there’s a black, twisted hand reaching out to him and _he can’t_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops? Okay, first of all, very sorry it took aeons to write. Second of all, I have no excuses for anything, at all, ever. Sorry. Also, I would like to thank all the people of earth for being extremely nice and commenting/kudosing etc. I hope you don't find this too terrible. Let me know what you think regardless! Hope you all have a fantastic day/night/evening etc. Thank you so much!

Derek drives right past the vet clinic. Stiles looks at him in confusion, about to squawk indignantly when he catches sight of Derek’s eyes. 

“Whoa, dude, did you put contacts in?” Derek doesn’t answer, just tilts his head slightly to the right. Stiles frowns, leaning closer to get a look at the ring of bright blue around Derek’s pupil. “Are you using your power?” He says quietly, trying to remember the description in Derek’s file. 

He knows a little bit about Derek’s power. He knows what Derek’s told him, and what the teachers discuss with each other in their sessions about control. Stiles still feels like he doesn’t know enough about his power, about Derek in general. He wants to know everything. 

Derek shakes his head suddenly, the blue in his eyes fading back to normal. Stiles still finds it unfair that Derek’s eyes are made up of practically every colour known to mankind. 

“Morrell and Deaton are at the school. We should be able to get in pretty easily.” Derek says, flicking the indicator and glancing at Stiles. 

“How did you know that? Did you listen in on their conversation or something?” Derek shakes his head.

“I listened for their heartbeats.” He explains, which, Stiles is going to need more than that. 

“Whoa, whoa, okay. You listened for their heartbeats? How does that work, I mean, don’t all heartbeats sound the same?” 

“Not really.” 

Stiles rolls his eyes so hard they almost hit the back of his skull. “Wow Derek, don’t go into too much detail there, I might get overwhelmed.” 

Derek huffs in frustration, hands clenching slightly on the steering wheel. Stiles pretends not to see and just waits impatiently for Derek to answer him. “I don’t know how to explain it,” He says finally, the words filtering through gritted teeth. 

“Actual words would be a start.” 

“Thanks for the tip, I hadn’t thought of that,” Derek snarks back, eyeing the traffic like he’s imagining throwing Stiles into it, or maybe just getting out and fleeing, leaving Stiles locked in the car. Stiles recognises the look, he’s seen it reflected in his Dad’s eyes. 

“It’s just a feeling,” Derek chews his answer for a little bit while Stiles tries to sneakily check the lock on his door. Derek gives him an odd look before going back to talking. “I guess it’s kind of a proximity thing. I recognise my family’s heartbeats wherever they are, I can even hear Laura’s sometimes, if I try hard enough. I don’t know, it just…” He shrugs. 

“Okay then, what about your eyes?” 

“My eyes?” 

“Dude, were you not listening a second ago when I asked about that? Did you zone out while you worked your magic?” Stiles stares incredulously at the side of Derek’s head. Maybe if he thinks hard enough, really believes it, then a tiny window will appear in Derek’s temple so that Stiles will be able to get actual helpful answers to his questions without waiting aeons. 

“Stop burning a hole in my skull,” Derek snaps, pressing a little harder on the gas. 

“I’m not burning anything, pyrokinesis isn’t my thing.”

“No, your thing is irritating people to the point where they want to drive their car off the nearest cliff.”

“Wait! Turn here, it’s quicker!” Stiles yelps, flailing an arm around in the direction of a back lane. It’s the way he uses to walk to school most mornings, since he can’t drive and buses don’t stop for him. Derek does as Stiles says, although not without shooting him a look to convey exactly how much he does not appreciate Stiles bossing him around. 

They get to the school eventually, still bickering about Derek’s powers. Surprisingly, it’s nice. Stiles has never really had someone to verbally spar with before and Derek’s pretty good with comebacks. It’s the comfortable kind of bickering, not the kind that Scott and Jackson do, which is full of sharp angry snapping and an underlying current of murderous intent. 

“So, are you going to tell me why we need to talk to Morrell so badly?”

“Are you going to tell me about your eyes?” Stiles shoots back, tapping his fingers on the seat. The school swims into view and Stiles feels a thrum of nervous anticipation flow through him. Derek pulls into a parking space near the front doors. The only people who get those spaces are the popular jerks like Jackson. Jackson doesn’t even have to arrive early, everyone just leaves it open for him and his fancy-ass Porsche. 

“If a Porsche is fancy-ass, then what does that make my car?” Derek says, unbuckling his seat belt. Stiles rolls his eyes and clambers out of the car, stroking the paintwork again. 

“It makes it a little piece of heaven,” Stiles croons. 

They head into the school easily and Stiles finds himself wondering about the security of this place. 

“Does nobody see the issue with this? We just broke into a school on the weekend through an unlocked door. Seriously, you could probably get away with murder in this place.” Derek snorts, tilting his head to the side again. Stiles watches his eyes intently but they stay the same colour. 

“I can hear both of their heartbeats, Deaton and Morrell. They’re in the sports hall, I think. I can hear metal,” Derek frowns, looking confused. Stiles grins. “Metal on metal, like-”

“Swords?” Stiles finishes, unable to keep a smug look off his face. Derek stops in his tracks, eyes fixed on Stiles, who keeps walking down the corridor. 

“So, you may not believe this, but I get pretty bored easily.” He ignores Derek’s snort of disbelief and keeps walking, heading for the sports hall. “A couple of weeks ago I wondered, accidentally of course, into one of Morrell’s control classes. She was teaching him some pretty badass moves with a sword, which I was kind of tempted to try, but my dad has a strict rule about handling sharp things when he’s not around.” That isn’t actually a lie; the Sherriff really does have a rule about that. Stiles guesses it’s because of the broken leg incident, and the time when he sliced his palm instead of the lettuce he was supposed to be aiming for. To be honest, there are a lot of incidents that could have sparked the making of that rule. 

“It’s good to see you have some sense of self-preservation then, even if it is mainly because of your dad.” Stiles grins widely at Derek, who’s too busy frowning at a passing locker to pay attention. 

“What did that locker do to deserve the death glare?” Derek looks oddly taken aback at the comment, as if he hadn’t realised that his natural resting face was similar to that of an angry criminal’s. 

“I don’t have a death glare. And nothing, I was just wondering about Morrell.” The clash of swords is loud enough that Stiles can hear them now, so he stops in the hallway and looks at Derek, waiting for him to finish. 

“What kind of student needs sword lessons to master control? And what kind of teacher _gives_ sword lessons to a student, let alone even knows how to fence?” 

“I didn’t pay much attention to the guy, but I think it was someone in the year below us. I don’t think they’re dangerous, if that’s what you’re worried about. Plus, loads of people have to have really intense sessions before they have control over their powers. I mean, what was your control class like?” Derek looks thoughtful for a second before nodding reluctantly. 

“Mine was mostly hand to hand combat, since all the extra noise and smells can be pretty overwhelming at times. It makes certain family traits… a bit more prominent?” Stiles knows immediately what Derek means by family traits. It isn’t exactly a secret that Talia Hale, one of the most powerful shape shifters in the world, passed on a little bit of extra power into her children’s genes. It’s what made the Hale’s so famous; multiple powers are pretty rare and genetic ones are even more so. 

“So, by prominent, you mean…” He puts his fingers to his mouth, trying to mime fangs before he realises that claws would have been much more recognisable. Derek laughs a little bit though, shaking his head like he doesn’t understand why he finds Stiles funny, which is stupid because Stiles is hilarious, everyone knows that. Well, not everyone. Whatever. 

“Yes Stiles, it tends to bring the lycanthropy to the surface. Most strong emotions do, that’s why we need a physical outlet to keep it under control. Mum doesn’t need to, but she said she was just the same as us, if not worse, when she was younger. She says it’s a matter of time.” 

“Most things are,” Stiles agrees absently, and he purposely ignores Derek’s sharp look. Instead, he clears his throat and heads for the door. 

“Don’t think I don’t notice that you’re avoiding all my questions about Morrell,” Derek says quietly, and Stiles freezes again before clearing his throat. 

“Look man, I’m not keeping anything from you on purpose, I just think it’ll be easier to let her tell you herself. Plus, they aren’t really my stories to tell. I shouldn’t even know all this stuff about her, but like I said, I get bored easily and-”. 

There’s a clattering sound from behind the door, followed by one short, sharp scream. Stiles falters, the breath catching in his lungs. Derek grabs his shoulder, pushes Stiles behind him and walks forward, placing one hand on the handle. There are no windows in the door. 

“What the hell was that?” Stiles whispers furiously, eyes on the back of Derek’s neck. There’s sweat gathered there and the fine dark hairs are stood up on end, like something static has passed over them. A cold rush of air seeps under the door, dowsing them both. Stiles shudders, stepping closer to Derek, who doesn’t seem to notice. 

“I can’t hear anything,” Derek breathes back, his hand tightening on the door handle. Stiles sags in relief, because at least that means there’s no monsters or supervillians. 

“Well, that’s a good thing then, isn’t it? They probably just finished their fight and dropped their swords.” Derek shakes his head frantically and Stiles feels his heart beat pick up. 

“No, Stiles, I can’t hear _anything_. All I can hear is our heartbeats. I can’t hear theirs.” The chill gets stronger and Stiles swears, a long stream of curse words that his dad would probably whack him for. He rushes past Derek, who grabs ineffectually at the back of his t-shirt. 

“Stiles, _wait_ -”

Stiles slams the doors open, panic rising in his throat, his heart thrumming angrily. He skids to a stop, his shoes squeaking inaudibly on the linoleum and lets out a strangled noise. Derek crashes into his back, folding his arms around Stiles’ waist to steady them. 

There’s no sign of Morrell or Deaton, but there are a lot of other people in here. They’re not people though, they’re creatures, the same ones from the park, the same ones from his garden, the same ones who kidnapped him. Derek utters a swear word behind him, right next to Stiles ear and the creatures turn as one, a seething mass of snarls and darkness. 

One of them rushes Derek, who roars, his hands clenching around Stiles’s hips. Stiles croaks out something incoherent, eyes on the figure right in front of him. Derek’s grip slackens suddenly and a thump reverberates around Stiles’ skull. He wants to reach out to Derek, who’s lying prone on the floor, but there’s a black, twisted hand reaching out to him and _he can’t_.

Cold snaps through him as flat fingers rest on his forehead and Stiles feels his knees give out. He slides to the floor, the edges of his vision going black. Before it fades completely, Stiles catches sight of something, two somethings, lying several feet away. 

His eyes close around the image of two long swords, wickedly curved and stained red with blood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumble with me? http://coconutcranberries.tumblr.com/  
> Twitter too, if you like :) https://twitter.com/
> 
> P.S. Also, someone needs to give all the teen wolf cast all the awards, especially Dylan O'Brien and Tyler Posey. Jeeeeezus my soul has been destroyed this season :O


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They're in a cave and its dark, what do you think happens? Not a lot actually. Sorry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize most profusely for my absence, there are explanations on my tumblr, but i'm still really very sorry People of Earth. There's only one more chapter after this! Stay tuned, hope you all had a fantastic Easter! Live long and prosper folks, happy reading :3

A hand covers his mouth and Stiles jolts awake. Derek looms above him, his face a panicked bloodied mess in the darkness. Derek shifts his hand to cup Stiles’ cheek, the soft slide of skin making Stiles shiver despite the situation. He’s still not used to people touching him, especially people who look like Derek does.

“Are you hurt?” The whisper seems to echo and Stiles frowns, shaking his head. 

“Are you?” He asks quietly. His voice scrapes against his throat, the words lingering thickly in his dry mouth. It feels as if he hasn’t drunk in days. Derek shakes his head and then winces. Stiles sits up quickly, biting his lip in concern. Derek’s hand falls from his cheek to his shoulder. 

It’s dark and quiet. Stiles blinks slowly, eyelids heavy with fatigue. He can’t hear anything, barring a soft whoosh of air that indicates he is in fact, still breathing. His eyes are adjusting now, but there are no slivers of light, no windows or floorboards to let anything in. Just Derek. 

It looks a little bit like a cave. 

Stiles shifts his attention to the boy in front of him, taking in the blood on his face. It’s dry and flaky, so it must have been there a while. 

“How long have we been down here?” 

Derek shrugs helplessly. “I woke up a while ago, but I was a bit out of it. I only just realised you were here too.” Derek moves to sit beside him, leaning heavily against the wall. 

“No-one’s come to check on us?” Stiles asks, although he knows the answer before Derek shakes his head. 

“Not while I was awake.” His gaze fixes on Stiles, who suddenly feels self-conscious. Stiles clears his throat. 

“What? What’s the matter?” Derek’s eyes lose some of their intensity, but he keeps looking at Stiles. 

“What were those things?” Stiles shudders, turning his face away. “Stiles, you acted like you’d seen them before. I saw your face, you didn’t look confused, just scared, like you knew what they could do. What are they?” 

Stiles shrugs minutely, his fingers playing with a loose thread on his sleeve. “I have a theory, but I wanted to talk to Morrell before I told anyone, just in case I was wrong. You’re right though, I have seen them before.” He tugs at the thread, unravelling the seam slightly. Derek catches his hand and Stiles stills.

“Tell me.” Derek’s voice is soft and Stiles sighs, leaning back against the hard rock with a wince. 

He starts talking, then, words spilling out quickly. He trips over the letters and stumbles to a stop more than once, but eventually everything is said. He talks about his power, how he never had one when he was younger, not until his mother died. He tells Derek about Scott and Lydia and Danny, even Jackson; how they used to know him, used to talk to him all the time, play with him at recess and pair up with him in class. Derek’s expression doesn’t change until Stiles tells him about seeing his own name in their group project list. 

“So, that’s why you think Morrell is involved then? You think she put your name on the list?” Stiles nods, realising distractedly that his fingers are still tangled with Derek’s. He doesn’t point it out. 

“I read her file; she’s more powerful than most people know. I don’t think she knew I was there, I don’t think she could see me,” Stiles adds carefully, “But I think she knew about me. Morrell was tapped into the school, tapped into everyone’s magic. She must have been able to detect something.”

Derek frowns. “I thought your power erased everything about you. You said your birth certificate doesn’t even exist anymore.” Stiles twists to face Derek, squeezing his hand gently. Derek looks a little surprised at the action, but he doesn’t let go. 

“I don’t know much about Nigh-Omnilocks, but I’m guessing that there are different levels of control over it. Like you said before, maybe you can advance to higher levels of power.” He hesitates, before starting again. “This is just a theory, which is why I wanted Morrell to talk to. My mum dying was the trigger for my power. I was running high on emotions and the power had been building up, since I was kind of a late-bloomer. I think it kind of…exploded?” He sighs in frustration, not sure how to explain it but, Derek makes a small sound as if he understands. 

“A build-up of power can cause a burst of energy. Think of it like this; your power was blocked off, you had no access to it. All you needed was one small trigger, a change of emotion, for it to become accessible. When your mum passed away, your emotions changed significantly and the power broke through, creating a large burst of energy. Since you had no control over it, it just went ahead and erased you.” 

Stiles stares at Derek for a full ten seconds before smiling. “Since when did you get so smart?” Derek huffs and shrinks down slightly, blushing to the tips of his ears. 

“Anyway, yeah, pretty much exactly what I was going to say,” Stiles winks at Derek’s glare and continues. “I think it did a lot to erase me, but like you said, I had no control over it. My power got rid of the big things, like photographs and memories, even birth certificates, but I think it just hid the smaller things, like progress reports, or passed over them completely. I think Morrell must have picked up on something in the school that mentioned me, like an old detention slip or something, something that my power missed.” 

Derek is silent for a few minutes, staring thoughtfully into space. There still isn’t any light, but the darkness seems less dense somehow, less crushing. 

“It makes sense I guess. She must be really powerful.” Derek’s voice is quiet, gravelly. Stiles looks down at their hands, barely visible in the gloom. His own hand is pale, long fingers wrapped around Derek’s. His Mum used to say that he had musical hands, perfect for reaching piano keys, coaxing life into guitar strings and thrumming out a beat on the drums. Stiles never got the hang of any instruments, could never quite focus enough to learn.  
Derek’s hands are strong, the one holding his tightening firmly as Stiles avoids his gaze. 

“She is powerful,” Stiles mumbles, “She’s like me. And so are these creatures.” Derek freezes, his eyes wide in surprise. 

“Like you? How are they like you?” Stiles shrugs, mutters something incomprehensible. Derek shakes their hands free and moves away. Stiles heart sinks and something heavy settles in his stomach. He can feel the blood pounding in his ears, squeezes his eyes shut. Those creatures are monsters, unnatural and deadly. They kidnapped them, possibly killed Morrell and Deaton and are holding he and Derek hostage in a cave underground. One of them hurt Derek. And they’re like Stiles. Of course Derek doesn’t want to be near him. 

A hand touches his face, cups his jaw and tilts his head up. Stiles’ breath falters in surprise and he blinks up at Derek, who’s kneeling in front of him, eyes big and dark. 

“How are they like you?” Stiles bites his lip. 

“I think they used to be like me. I think they used to be Nigh-Omnilocks too, and maybe they never got control. It’s just another theory.” 

Derek stays silent, but keeps his hands where they are. Stiles can feel the warmth on his face, both from blushing and from the heat of Derek’s hands. His skin feels alive, thrumming with anticipation, every nerve-ending on fire from just a simple touch. 

“Maybe they used to be like you,” Derek whispers suddenly, “But they’re not anymore. You’re nothing like them Stiles. I might not have known you for very long, but I know you well enough to be sure of that.” 

Derek leans forward on the last word and Stiles breathes out, the sound harsh in the silence. 

A loud burst of noise breaks the tension and Derek falls back, shocked. Stiles jumps, his hands scrabbling at his pockets. The theme tune from Star Wars continues to play, echoing oddly all across the room. 

“They didn’t take my phone, they didn’t take it, stupid amateurs, where the hell-oh wait, I’ve got it.” 

Derek stares blankly as Stiles seizes his phone and yanks it out of his pocket. The screen flashes blue and Scott’s name blinks up at him. Stiles hastily mashes the buttons and lifts the phone to his ear. 

_“Stiles? Stiles, I’m so sorry! I went to your dad’s house hoping you’d be there, but he said you went out. He’s pretty mad Stiles, you might want to get over here yesterday.”_

“Scott, listen to me, I have to be quick okay? Is my Dad there?” 

_“Yeah, he’s here. Hang on; I’ll put it on speakerphone.”_ Stiles grins quickly at Derek, who smiles faintly back. He still looks a little shell-shocked, sprawled on the cold floor. There’s a click on the phone and Stiles lets out a relieved sigh.

_“Okay, he can hear you now. We’re at your house.”_

“Brilliant. Dad, don’t freak out okay?”

 _“Nothing good ever comes after 'don’t freak out'. What have you done now, son?”_ Stiles almost cries at the sound of his dad’s voice, no matter how pissed off it seems. 

“Actually, this wasn’t me. It was probably because of me, but I didn’t do anything wro-Hey!” Derek snatches the phone off of Stiles and presses a finger lightly to Stiles’ lips. 

“Mr Stilinski? It’s Derek Hale. Yes, I’m with Stiles.” Stiles glares resentfully at Derek and resists the urge to bite his finger. “We were both kidnapped from Beacon Hills High School  
and we don’t know where we are. There’s nothing helpful to indicate where we are and it’s very likely that the things that took us are still around somewhere.” Stiles hears a rush of voices over the phone before Derek mutters an affirmative. 

“We’re not hurt, but call whoever you need to.” Derek hesitates, listening. His expression flickers for a second before landing on determined. “I will, don’t worry. You should probably call my mom, she’ll be able to help you find us.” Derek listens for another second before handing the phone back to Stiles. 

Stiles glances at the screen. His glare gets heavier when he reads _Call Disconnected_. 

“That was a dick move,” He snaps, crossing his arms. Derek shrugs unconcernedly. 

“You were too worried about making your friend and your father panic. They needed the right information and you were too busy rambling.” Stiles pushes up, clambering to his feet. Derek copies him, lifting an eyebrow when Stiles glares heatedly. 

“You could have let me say goodbye. He panics a lot, since it’s just me and him.” Derek steps closer, puts a tentative hand on Stiles’ shoulder. 

“He told me to look after you, make sure you were safe. I intend to do that, no matter what.” It’s not an apology, but Stiles doesn’t really need one. He nods slowly, smiling at Derek. 

“Guess all we have to do now is wait.” Derek says. Stiles nods again, catching Derek’s eye and grinning lecherously. 

“I wonder how we should pass the time?” He waggles his eyebrows suggestively. Derek chokes on air and splutters indignantly, face crimson. Stiles cackles with laughter, shrugging Derek’s hand off of his shoulder and catching it instead, mashing their palms together. Derek huffs before twining their fingers together, making Stiles smile triumphantly. 

“Shut up, someone could hear you.” Derek grumbles, hunching his shoulders. Stiles tilts his head curiously. 

“Can you hear anything?” He flicks Derek’s ear, grinning in the face of his murderous stare. 

“No,” Derek frowns disconcertedly. “I could hear you a little while after I woke up, but that’s only because you snore.” He grins then and Stiles sticks his tongue out. 

“Dick, I do not snore. Besides, I was unconscious Derek, not asleep. I definitely wouldn’t have been snoring, dumbass.”

Derek snorts in disbelief and tugs on Stiles’ arm until he’s this close to Derek. Then he reaches over and pinches Stiles’ nose, ducking out of hitting range when Stiles yelps. 

“You snore, deal with it. And don’t call me a dick. Or a dumbass.” Derek frowns. “Your nicknames are hardly flattering.” 

Stiles laughs and shakes his head. He likes this playful side of Derek, although it is a little bit weird, especially since they’re being held hostage in what looks like a cave by a load of freaky-ass monsters. 

“I can come up with some more flattering nicknames if you like sugarplum.” Derek glares, points a finger at Stiles’ face in warning. Stiles mimes biting it before adopting a serious expression. 

“So you can’t hear anything? No heartbeats or conversations or footsteps?” 

Derek shakes his head. “Just you.” 

Stiles hums thoughtfully, swinging their clasped hands. “Maybe they aren’t here then. Reckon we can break out?” 

Derek shakes his head again. “Actually, I think the fact that I can’t hear anything means that they are here. I can’t hear your heartbeat, or smell anything in this room. I think their power blocks mine, like it did in the school.” 

Stiles tips his head to the side, shrugging. “Makes sense, although I wish it didn’t. I don’t want to sit here and wait to be rescued though.” His face lights up and Derek narrows his eyes warily. “Hey! We could try and find Morrell and Deaton.”

“Stiles, we don’t even know if they’re alive.”

Stiles raises an eyebrow. “Is that a reason not to try? If they are hurt, or dying, then we need to find them quickly. Dad and Scott won’t be looking for them, they’ll be looking for us.” 

“I don’t know Stiles, I’m not sure if it’s a good idea.” Stiles shrugs one shoulder. 

“I’m still going, you can either wait here or you can come with me and help. Is your head okay?” He gestures at the mess of dried blood on Derek’s face, cursing himself for not checking it sooner. Derek looks surprised, lifting a hand to his temple. 

“I’d forgotten about that. It’s fine, it’ll have healed by now. All Hales have a bit of healing power in their genes, it’s part of the lycanthropy. This wasn’t a big wound, so it doesn’t take very long to fix.” 

Stiles eyes Derek’s face, impressed despite himself. “That’s extremely cool. I could probably do with that, I’m always falling over myself and getting hurt.” He grins up at Derek, who suddenly looks alarmed. Stiles lifts his arm up, fingers clasping the edge of his sleeve. He rubs away most of the blood, staring curiously at the skin. Sure enough, it’s smooth and clear, no sign of any injury. 

“Not bad,” He admits, shaking his sleeve back into space. Derek stares down at him in fond amusement. 

“What?” Stiles asks quietly. Derek shakes his head. 

“So, how are we getting out of here then? I don’t see a door anywhere.” Stiles grins to himself and then backs up, pressing himself against the wall. Derek gives him an odd look, which is totally unwarranted because Stiles is a genius. He spreads his arms out along the wall and then walks sideways, his back against the stone, his hands feeling for dips in the stone, anything to indicate an opening. 

Derek huffs a laugh. “You’re such an idiot.” 

“Genius,” Stiles corrects, “You meant to say genius there.” He hits a corner and feels his way sideways, along the next stretch of wall. 

“A genius disguised as an idiot,” Derek allows, “But that’s a bit of a mouthful, so I’ll just stick with idiot.” Stiles is almost too busy glaring through the dark at Derek to notice the gap. His hands glide over it at first, but then he feels a slight draft of air brush across his wrist. 

“Aha!” He exclaims. “Found it, I told you, I’m a genius.” 

“You found the door?” Derek sounds extremely doubtful. Stiles listens to his footsteps get closer as he examines the gap. He can’t see it very well in the dark. 

“You wouldn’t happen to have a flashlight on you, would you? Lighter? Secret power of pyro kinesis?” Derek makes an amused sound next to his ear and Stiles jumps. He hadn’t realised Derek was that close. 

“Dude, don’t do that, okay? You may be all-healing but, my fragile body won’t magically repair itself if I have a heart attack.”

“You’re hardly fragile.” Derek says lightly, still close behind him. Stiles can feel heat all up his back. 

“Whatever, do you have a light or not?” His voice sounds strained even to his own ears, an odd quivery note to the last words. 

“No, but _you_ do.” Stiles frowns in confusion, his protests trailing off in a strangled sound when Derek slips a hand into his jeans pocket. 

“Your phone,” Derek withdraws it and Stiles exhales sharply, shifting uncomfortably. “Idiot.” 

Stiles snatches the phone away, aiming an elbow at Derek’s stomach. Derek grunts in surprise and moves back, standing next to him instead. He glares balefully at Stiles, rubbing his stomach. Stiles rolls his eyes and clicks on his phone, using the light from the screen to stare at the gap. 

“Oh,” says Derek. “You actually did find a door.” Stiles smirks and tugs at the gap, which is shaped like a handle set into the stone. The wall groans but, doesn’t move. His smirk fades. 

“You don’t happen to have super-strength do you?” He asks weakly. Derek frowns, reaching towards the handle. 

The wall slides open. 

“Derek might not, but I do.” Deputy Parrish leans against the open wall, slightly out of breath but beaming widely. Stiles lets out a whoop and raises his arms. Scott ducks out from behind Parrish and yelps, barrelling into Stiles. 

“We found you,” Scott’s voice is muffled in Stiles’ shirt and Stiles ruffles his hair fondly. He grins at them both, nudging Derek, who looks blank. Stiles opens his mouth, frowning, but Derek cuts him off. 

“Where’s my mum and the Sherriff?” He says gruffly, shoving his hands in his pockets. Parrish smiles kindly at them both and Scott laughs, stepping back. 

“C’mon, this way. You’re gonna love this.” Scott gestures behind him towards a set of steps and then takes off, following Parrish. Derek starts to follow but Stiles grabs his hand, tugging him backwards. 

“I don’t know what’s gotten into you but if you don’t stop, I may have to shut you back in there.” He jerks his head at the room behind them. Derek pauses, sighs and then twines his fingers with Stiles’. 

“Much better,” He says decidedly. “Now, let’s catch up to Scott before he falls down the stairs or something.” 

“He can _fly_ , Stiles.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried. Sorry, Thank you. Please leave comments, even if they're abusive, i'm not fussy. (totally lying, don't be mean) Love you all, mwah!


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The very last chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey People of Earth. This is the last chapter! It ties up most things, but I left it a little ambiguous, in case I want to return to it again. Hopefully, I didn't disappoint you all though! I just want to thank everybody who's stayed with this, and commented and left kudos and support, because you're all really lovely, and I'm glad that you've enjoyed it. 
> 
> No warnings needed, unless you're allergic to sass and stupidity ;) 
> 
> Special thanks to Preeshera (good luck with GISHWHES) and Kickasscookieeater (Der-Bear gets a happy ending) :3
> 
> Thank you so much peeps! Enjoy! :)

Typically, Lydia goes first. 

Stiles settles on top of his desk, legs crossed underneath him and watches as the red-head straightens her blue skirt and strides to the front of the class. The substitute teacher, a kind looking woman with a round face, gives Lydia a reassuring smile and quiets the rest of the room. 

“Our project is centred on the importance of equality between different races of Power.” Lydia begins smoothly. She barely glances at her notes the entire time, reeling off names of famous and highly regarded Superheroes in the world, the ones with the coveted, important powers. Stiles is mildly surprised; he didn’t think the group got anything done on their project between bickering and getting their asses handed to them by shadowy ninjas. 

Someone pokes him in the back, and Stiles jerks around to see Derek glaring at him. He still isn’t used to people touching him, or looking at him rather than through him. He’s getting better at it though, with the help of Derek and Scott. 

“Move out of the way.” Derek whispers, glancing around to make sure no one is paying attention. He need not have bothered, since most of the class are doodling, texting or staring up at Lydia in admiration. 

“Oh, sorry, am I blocking your view?” Stiles says, widening his eyes innocently. 

“What do you think?” Derek says lowly, rolling his eyes. He looks particularly handsome today. 

“I think you might want to see a professional.” Stiles says solemnly, nodding his head. “Talking to thin air and hearing voices is nothing to be ashamed of, but you should still get some help.” 

Derek growls under his breath and several people edge their chairs away from him, shooting him wary looks. One girl actually pulls her hood up, as if that might protect her from Derek’s non-existent wrath. Stiles laughs delightedly, hopping down from his desk. Scott gives him an amused look from across the room, as if he knows exactly what’s going on. He probably does, since Stiles did the same thing to Scott in the library the other day. 

“Anyway,” Stiles says abruptly. “I thought this was supposed to be a group project? Why is it just Lydia speaking?” 

“You would know if you came to the study sessions that Erica set up.” Derek says lowly, eyes on the notes in front of him. Stiles circles to lean over him, propping his head up on Derek’s shoulder. Derek’s voice is a little bit shakier when he continues talking. “We spilt up the roles. Each person says the equivalent of two PowerPoint slides. We all worked together on the PowerPoint.” 

“That must have been entertaining.” Stiles muses, tapping his fingers on Derek’s arm. 

Neither of them have talked about what’s between them, not yet, but for some reason, Stiles thinks that they almost don’t need to. They aren’t an official couple, and there hasn’t been much more than hand-holding, even though it’s been two weeks since they were rescued from the ninjas. Still, Stiles knows they’re headed into couple territory, and he’s more than content to let things go at their own pace; he’s enjoying getting to know Derek. 

“The most important fact in all of this is that even though these Powers are somewhat more useful or important than others, that does not make the people wielding them superior.” Lydia nods primly, eyeing the room as if daring them to disagree. Nobody dares. 

It is Jackson’s turn next, and Stiles tunes him out in favour of thinking back over the past couple of weeks. 

The truth was, after his Dad had swept him and Derek up and away from the building they were being held hostage in, Stiles had had a lot to think about. He spent the first week in the house, scrolling through sites on being a Nigh-Omnilock, which weren’t very helpful, and then consulting with Morrell and Deaton in the hospital as they recovered from their injuries. 

Deaton, Scott’s boss, had not been of much help. Morrell, on the other hand, had offered to train Stiles herself. 

“I know you have probably guessed the truth about my power.” Morrell had interrupted him. Stiles didn’t know how she could be so intimidating whilst propped up on several pillows in a hospital bed. She even managed to make the gown work for her. “And the truth about the creatures that kidnapped you.” 

“They were like me, weren’t they?” Stiles had said slowly, biting his lip. “They had my Power, or something similar.”

Morrell had nodded heavily, looking weary. “Those creatures were people once. They were Nigh-Omnilocks, or just Omnilocks, with no control over their Power. When that happens, when a person has an absence of control, the Power can consume them, control them instead.” 

Stiles had shuddered. There were high-security prisons all across the world full of villains who had done terrible things, and most of those villains were the result of their powers consuming them. It was why schools stressed the importance of learning control, so that they would create a generation of heroes and not villains. 

“My Mum said something to me once, about the world not being split into superheroes and bad guys. I understood it, of course, but I don’t think I really got it until now.” Stiles had admitted, twisting his hands in his lap. 

Morrell had nodded, almost kindly. “Those creatures were not evil, they weren’t bad guys. They just needed a little help, and they didn’t get it. This isn’t a black and white world, despite how much easier life would be if it was.” 

“I don’t think it would be easier, actually.” Stiles had said, frowning. “What’s going to happen to them?” 

Morrell had tilted her head, studying him intently. There was a look in her eyes that Stiles wasn’t sure he liked. “For the moment, they are being held in a containment unit in one of Beacon Hills prisons. Once I have recovered fully, I shall be using my understanding of Nigh-Omnilock Powers to help them gain control.” 

“So you are a Nigh-Omnilock, then? I was right?” Stiles said, a little unsure. 

“Something similar.” She had allowed, grinning. “If you like, I can help you control of your Power too. There are many uses applications for such a Power and in time you may even reach Transcendence.” 

Stiles had stared, taken aback. Excitement had slowly started to replace his shock, and he had grinned widely, nodding eagerly. 

“I’ll let you know when we can begin our session.” Morrell had informed him, ad Stiles had taken it for dismissal, getting hurriedly up from his chair, a grin still plastered from his face. It hadn’t even faded when his Dad caught him outside and told him he was grounded for all of eternity for leaving the house without telling him where he was going. His Dad had been a little over-protective lately, but Stiles couldn’t bring himself to care. 

Derek turns his head, brushing his lips against Stiles’ cheek, and Stiles snaps back into the room. He could feel himself blush at Derek’s intense look, and waggles his eyebrows to cover it up. Derek eyes his blush with a smug grin and then leans forward purposefully, placing a soft kiss to Stiles jaw. 

“You realise how insane you look right now, don’t you? We are in a room full of people that don’t know I exist.” Stiles can’t believe he’s actually protesting to this, but it’s hard to think with Derek this close. 

“I don’t care.” Derek says quietly, placing one last kiss to his jaw. Stiles tries valiantly to catch his breath. “And some of these people know that you exist.” 

“Only Scott.” Stiles argues. Derek leans back in confusion, raising an eyebrow. Up at the front of the class, Isaac finishes speaking and Erica takes his place with Scott at her side.  
Stiles sighs. “The rest of them forgot about helping us the other day. Scott told me that they all have no recollection of me being there, and only a vague one of seeing you.” 

“How could they forget that?” Derek says incredulously, forgetting to keep his voice low. Erica throws him a glare and Scott hides a grin. There’s a slight squeak as several chairs move even further away from Derek, and Stiles snickers even as the substitute teacher calls for quiet. Derek mutters an apology and turns back to Stiles, obviously waiting for an explanation. 

Stiles shrugs, holding up his hands. He doesn’t know exactly how they can all forget an entire day of searching for the both of them, but it happened. Stiles knows he won’t ever forget walking out of that basement to see them all surrounding the Nigh-Omnilocks, along with half of the Sheriff’s department and Derek’s Mum and Dad, who were both wolfed out. 

It was quite a sight. 

He’s not sure how Lydia forgot about holding half of the creatures still with her brain, throwing thoughts like they were daggers and invading their minds until they were shivering wrecks on the floor. 

He’s not sure how Jackson forgot about the way he forced several of them into the corner of the room with the power of his anger, roaring and hissing and smashing windows, shards of glass raining down across the creatures. 

He’s not sure how Erica and Boyd forgot the way they seamlessly dispatched four monsters each, throwing them through walls and windows with vicious ease. 

He knows exactly how Isaac forgot the way he blew up one corner of the room, since half of the debris landed on him as well as the monsters and knocked him unconscious. A concussion tends to do some damage. 

He knows it was his Power that made them forget, but he still doesn’t know how, because to him it was pretty unforgettable. 

“It’s my turn in a minute.” Derek mutters. He looks strangely nervous, which Stiles finds endearing. 

“I’m sure you’ll be fine.” Stiles says dryly, but Derek ignores him, fiddling with the papers in front of him. Stiles frowns. “What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing.” Derek assures him, but under Stiles’ relentless stare, he caves in. “It’s just that Scott and I had an idea.” 

Stiles stares at him blankly. “You and Scott came up with an idea together? Where the hell did that come from? You mostly spend your time glaring at each other from across a fifty foot gap!” 

“I think that’s a slight exaggeration.” Derek says mildly, still infuriatingly not looking at Stiles. It is an exaggeration, obviously, but Scott has spent all of his high school years being afraid of Derek, so it’s not too far off. They haven’t been too hostile to each other, more ignoring the fact that the other person exists. However, that’s not the most pressing issue here. 

“I think I preferred it when you were all over my face, instead of pretending I don’t have one.” Stiles mutters, before he zooms in extremely close to Derek, face almost mashed against his. Derek jerks back in surprise and scatters his papers on the floor, hissing his name. Stiles snickers despite Derek’s glare, as everyone either stares with wide eyes at  
Derek Hale scrambling about on the floor. 

Instead of sitting back down and telling Stiles what the hell has gotten into him, Derek stands up and moves with intent up to the front of the class. Erica cuts her speech short with an eye roll, gives Derek a baleful glare and moves back to her seat, hips swaying as she walks. 

“Hey now!” Stiles squawks, clambering over several empty chairs to get to the front. “We were in the middle of a conversation.” He hisses indignantly, poking Derek in the back.  
Derek doesn’t flinch, but he obviously wants to, and he gives Stiles a minute glare as he turns to face the class. 

The class doesn’t look particularly interested, and even the substitute teacher is beginning to look bored. Her smile is still fixed on her face, but it looks like the kind held together with sheer will and Botox injections. 

Derek pauses, obviously sensing everyone’s disinterest, and shuffles a little. 

“Hang on,” Stiles says, nodding solemnly. “I got this.” 

He leaps up onto the teacher’s desk behind Derek and flaps his hands about, knocking a stapler and several board markers aside. Only a few students jump as they clatter to the floor, but then their eyes drift away again, as if they never saw it at all. Stiles contains a sigh and instead opens his mouth wide, crowing loudly enough that Scott jerks up from where he’s been doodling on his hand and Derek stumbles to the side in shock. A few more students frown, almost like they can hear him. 

Stiles feels more cheerful than he has in a while, and opens his mouth to yell something unflattering about Mr Harris when Derek hastily starts talking. Stiles stops grudgingly, and sits cross legged on the desk, chucking a rubber band ball up and catching it. Scott grins at him from his seat, before widening his eyes at Derek and jerking his head, as if he wants Stiles to actually pay attention. 

“Do you have a neck cramp?” Isaac whispers, loud enough for Stiles to hear, and he laughs brightly as Scott sinks down into his seat. 

“Nah, just an itch.” Scott whispers back. 

The teacher makes a disapproving noise, and Scott and Isaac both smile winningly at her, blushing a little. Stiles rolls his eyes, he can never make his face look that innocent. He throws the ball back up again and then tunes in to Derek, freezing at the sentence that falls off of Derek’s lips. 

“While there are a mix of common powers and rare powers in this school, there’s also an extremely rare power, one that’s unheard of. There are no recorded accounts of this power, and left uncontrolled it can be quite dangerous.” 

Stiles lets out a breath, eyes glued to the back of Derek’s head. People are taking an interest now, and even Derek’s group look confused. Scott is smiling slightly, and Stiles thinks back to several minutes ago. Scott and I had an idea.

“What is he talking about?” Jackson snaps loudly, leaning back in his chair. Lydia shushes him, her brow furrowed, and Stiles realises that she’s trying to get a read on Derek. 

“Derek, what are you doing?” Stiles says quietly, still a little stunned. He’s confused, because if this is their idea, then how are they going to make everyone believe that it’s him? How are they supposed to prove it, or even get everyone to remember it after class ends and Derek stops talking?

“I’m talking about a group of powerful individuals called Nigh-Omnilocks.” Derek says, just as loudly as Jackson. He seems more confident now, his voice growing in animation and volume. “It is ultimately the ability to enter into a state of non-existence.” 

There’s a short silence, before everyone starts murmuring amongst each other. 

“Bullshit.” Jackson exclaims incredulously. 

Erica nods in agreement. “Surely, we would have heard about it.” 

“I think that’s kind of the point though,” Danny pipes up, frowning. “If a person doesn’t exist, how are we supposed to know about their power?” 

Derek makes a sound that’s almost, but not quite, a growl and Stiles unfreezes enough to let out a sharp bark of laughter. It works though, and most of the class settles down, staring at Derek in the hope of answers. It’s the first time Stiles has seen teenagers actually paying attention to a fellow student giving a talk, but powers are always interesting, and a new power is enough to cause a stir. 

“Obviously,” Jackson drawls obnoxiously. “This is a pile of shit. If there were such a power, how would you know about it?” He smirks at Derek, eyebrows raised in a challenge. 

“Mr Whittemore, quiet down. And mind your language.” The teacher says sternly. Jackson rolls his eyes, but she’s already turning to Derek. “That’s quite a claim you’ve made there, Mr Hale. I’m sure you have some evidence to answer your classmates’ questions.” 

Derek nods, and Stiles clenches the rubber band ball between his hands, sliding off of the desk to stand by Derek. He places a comforting hand on Derek’s shoulder, squeezing in reassurance. He has no idea what Derek’s doing, but he trusts him enough to let him do it. Scott gives them both a subtle thumbs up. Derek relaxes under his hand. 

“There are lots of sub-powers of being what is called an Omnilock, and one of them is Nigh-Omnilock.” Derek explains carefully. “Nigh-Omnilocks, as I said, are able to enter into a state of non-existence. Basically, this means that they control whether or not they exist. This wipes away all written records, any memories, photographs, absolutely anything to do with the person with this power.”

“Would all of this come back when the person chose to exist again?” Lydia asks narrowly, her pen poised over her paper. She looks intrigued, but not particularly surprised, so Stiles figures she might have gotten a few flashes of Derek’s thoughts. 

Derek nods. “Yes.” He hesitates, obviously at a loss to explain how he knows this when Scott scrambles up, beaming at everyone as he stands on Stiles’ other side. Stiles has to hold back a hysterical laugh, because this is actually happening. 

“I can say from experience, that all the memories come back.” Scott says, smiling almost smugly. 

“What the hell?” Jackson says, as he thunks his chair back on all four legs. “McCall, you too?” 

“It’s true.” Scott says, over everyone’s sudden protests and murmurs. He takes a deep breath, and Stiles feels his heart skip in anticipation. “I had a best friend, in eighth grade, called Stiles Stilinski.” Stiles jolts, and brings his other arm up to nudge Scott in the side. “Up until a little while ago, I had forgotten that he existed.” 

“How long did you forget him for?” Erica says, looking honestly bewildered. Everyone else looks a mix of suspicious, in awe and shocked. 

“From eighth grade until now.” Scott mumbles, looking a little guilty. Stiles glares and pokes Scott’s cheek until he smiles instead. 

“That’s a long time to forget your best friend.” Boyd observes, from the back of the room. 

“That’s because he’s a Nigh-Omnilock.” Scott says cheerfully. 

Stiles snorts and Derek rolls his eyes. “I think they worked that out.” 

“Look, I know you probably have some doubts, which makes sense because this is a pretty big claim, but all of this is plausible at the very least. And I know that if you talk to Sheriff Stilinski, he’ll tell you the truth about his son, Stiles.” Derek inhales slowly, then lets it all out in a big sigh. Stiles turns slowly to face him, sensing something big was about to happen. 

“I didn’t believe it either, at first. I started getting tripped up and pinched everywhere I went by invisible hands and feet, and I thought this irritating buzzing sound in my ear was just a sign that I needed to get some more sleep. But it turned out to be a very brilliant boy, who happens to like taking the piss out of people even when they can’t see him, and I don’t think he should stay non-existent for much longer.” 

Stiles stares in amazement, and Derek glances at him from the corner of his eye, a fond smile quirking his mouth. Scott is talking beside them, chattering on about Stiles’ many, many pranks over the years of being bored and lonely out of his mind, and Stiles makes a very distant note in the back of his head to get Scott in a headlock sometime soon, because some things just don’t need to be shared. But Derek is smiling at him, and Stiles is finding a bit hard to care about anything else right now. 

“What do you mean, he keyed my car?” Jackson snarls suddenly, half leaning out of his chair. 

Okay, so Stiles can still care about some things, apparently. 

“Scott, shut up.” He hisses, whipping around to face his pale best friend, who makes a pleading expression back. 

“Wait, is he here now?” Isaac chimes in, looking intently at the space where Stiles is currently standing, and that’s a little unnerving actually. The rest of the class stop excitedly babbling, and join in with Isaac, and Stiles is now officially afraid. He ducks behind Derek, who snorts and reaches behind him to pat his head. Stiles scowls ineffectively at Derek’s shoulder blades, but he can’t hold the expression for long, and instead he sighs dreamily, sweeping his gaze down Derek’s back. 

“Is he the one who stuck those chairs to the wall?” A girl pipes up from the back of the class.

Stiles whoops, darts out from behind Derek and points at the girl. “Hell yes, that was me! I take full credit! I didn’t think anyone noticed that.” That was some of his best work.

The class freezes, and several mouths drop open in shock. The girl squeaks, almost toppling off of her chair in surprise. 

“My goodness!” The substitute teacher exclaims faintly. “I must get the school principle.” She sprints from the classroom at roughly the same time that Stiles comes to the conclusion that they can see him. 

Slowly, Stiles lowers his hand from where it’s pointed at the alarmed girl at the back of the glass and snaps his mouth shut. “Hey.” He says weakly, waving a little. 

Scott promptly dissolves into laughter behind him, and even Derek is chuckling. 

“That’s interesting.” Lydia says, and an odd expression flies across her face before she goes pale. Stiles guesses that she’s remembering her part in rescuing them. 

“I know you.” Jackson says narrowly, pointing accusingly. “You were in kindergarten with me.” 

“Uh, yes, yes I was.” Stiles says, taking a hesitant step back. “I was in kindergarten with quite a few of you.” 

“You smeared chocolate pudding all over my coat.” Jackson growls. “And you finger-painted my name all over the classroom window.” 

“That was classic.” Stiles nods with a low whistle, remembering. They had only just learnt to write their own names, so of course the teachers just assumed it was Jackson that did it. “I learnt to write your name especially for that, you should feel privileged.” 

Jackson splutters incoherently, and Scott’s laughter turns silent as he hiccups, leaning heavily against the desk. Stiles shrugs. 

“Shouldn’t you be angrier over the fact that he keyed your car?” Isaac directs at Jackson, brow raised. Jackson’s face clears only to fill with rage, and Stiles decides that he doesn’t like Isaac. Much.

“Maybe you should run.” Derek laughs out from behind him, and Stiles is all over that plan, really, he is. 

He sprints out of the classroom, ducks past Jackson and lobs the rubber band ball at the guy’s head, smirking when it hits its target. 

Unfortunately, he sprints straight into the principle. 

 

Stiles slinks out of the school doors with his hood up, just in case, and blanches at the view that greets him. 

He grumbles, stumbles down the steps and trudges up to two of the only cars in the practically deserted parking lot. 

“You better not be telling him embarrassing stories about me.” Stiles shakes a finger at his Dad in warning, and the Sheriff levels him with an unimpressed look. Derek suppresses a laugh, and stands up from where he’s leaning against the Camaro. 

“Just wait until I break out the photo albums.” His Dad says, deadpan. It’s an empty threat, because there aren’t any photos of Stiles, even though his Dad must have taken hundreds over the years. They always turn out blank, or fuzzy. 

“So, I guess you heard what happened then?” Stiles says, shifting from side to side. 

“Scott called me.” His Dad confirms, nodding. “He explained what happened, although he was a little fuzzy on details, and said I should get to the school.” He lifts an eyebrow. “You want to tell me what’s going on?” 

“I think Derek should be the one to tell you that.” Stiles says, and takes extreme pleasure in watching the way Derek goes tense and fidgets. Not that he’s not grateful for what Derek’s done; he just would have appreciated a bit of warning. Stiles pauses, thinking. “Hang on, what were you two talking about before I came over?” 

Abruptly, His Dad looks a little bit guilty, and contrite. “I was just apologising to Derek, for that story I made up the other week. It wasn’t exactly my most mature moment.” 

Stiles snorts, loudly, and then cackles when they both shoot him glares. 

“What?” Stiles says, throwing up his hands. “It was funny, y’know, looking back on it. I’m proud of you, Dad; you finally displayed a sense of humour that I can actually relate to.” 

His Dad cuffs him around the head. 

“So, what’s going on then?” His Dad starts, pinning both of them with a look. 

Derek straightens up with a thoughtful frown, like he’s trying to come up with the best explanation. 

“Derek outed me to the class.” Stiles says, grinning fondly. 

“That wasn’t what I meant to do.” Derek argues. 

“What did you mean to do?” 

“It was Scott’s idea too.” Derek says hastily. “Our group project was supposed to be about different Powers and equality, and we thought we could work Stiles’ power into the presentation.” 

“They believed you?” The Sheriff looks stunned, and a little bit of hope creeps into his eyes. 

“More than that, actually.” Derek says slowly. “It got a bit chaotic, especially when Stiles joined in.”

Stiles waves away the accusation. “I was just trying to help.” 

The Sheriff raises an eyebrow. 

“I may have done more damage than I intended.” Stiles admits after a small pause. “But it wasn’t on purpose! They were both saying really nice things, and I got a bit excited when someone finally noticed one of my pranks.” 

“So, what?” His Dad says, obviously confused. “Did they remember you then?” 

“They could see me, Dad.” Stiles says, awe filling his voice. “They were actually looking at me, albeit, like I was some kind of escaped prisoner, but they were still looking at me! Jackson even interacted with me.” 

Derek snorts. “He charged you, and you tried to knock him out with a bunch of rubber bands. I don’t think you can call that interacting, Stiles.” 

“We interacted, there was interaction, and what else am I supposed to call it?” Stiles demands, ignoring his Dad’s sigh. 

“Well, what did the principle tell you to call it?” Derek says slyly. 

“A minor miracle.” Stiles snaps back, even as his Dad whips his head up. 

“What? You’ve been visible for a couple of hours and you’re already in trouble with the principle? Stiles!” His Dad looks a strange mix of exasperated and disbelieving and in awe. 

“It’s not my fault! The teacher from my class went and blabbed about me to practically all the staff, so they wanted to have a talk with me. They want to talk to you too, as soon as possible.” He adds, jerking his head at the doors. His Dad nods, his face slipping into the professional mask he wears at work. 

“Alright, well, I’ll be back a bit later then.” His Dad hesitates. “Are you sure you’re okay? I would have thought you’d be a bit happier about all of this.”  
Stiles nods, chews his lip. “I am, I mean, I’m glad. It’s just a bit overwhelming.” He tails off uncomfortable, aware of Derek’s eyes on him, and his Dad gives a firm, understanding nod. 

“Okay, well, I’ll see you at home. Drive safe, son.” Clapping Derek on the shoulder, and catching Stiles in a quick, but warm hug, the Sheriff marches up to the school doors. Stiles waits until he’s slipped through them before turning to Derek. 

“Who knew you could be such a schemer?” Stiles says dryly. 

“Are you angry?” Derek says gruffly, shoving his hands into his pockets. 

Stiles splutters. “No! I mean, I’m a little annoyed that I didn’t get to plan my big reveal myself because seriously, there was an extreme lack of fireworks and confetti.” He gives Derek a hard look which has the other boy grinning. 

“Next time I’ll blow up some balloons.” Derek offers, leaning back against the car. Stiles steps a bit closer, makes a face of mock outrage. 

“What do you mean some balloons, I want at least a thousand.”

“And a parade?” Derek teases. He catches hold of the corner of Stiles’ shirt to tug him in. Stiles goes willingly. 

“Definitely.” Stiles is a little breathless, but that’s nothing to do with the way that Derek’s leaning into him, pulling Stiles forward. Absolutely no relation whatsoever. “No marching bands, though, I hate marching bands. I will gladly accept a circus performance though. You know, some trapeze artists, that kind of thing.” 

“Spoilt.” Derek murmurs the word against Stiles’ lips, and Stiles grins into the kiss. 

It’s sweet and chaste, just a brush of mouths against each other, and yet Stiles can still feel it everywhere, like a kiss to his veins, his blood. He wraps a hand around Derek’s neck, flits his fingers slowly through his hair and gives a little tug. Derek groans, cups Stiles jaw and tilts him so they fit together more easily. Stiles can feel eyelashes fluttering against his cheek and he’s not sure whose they are, but it doesn’t matter. 

They pull back a little, breathing shakily, but nobody moves away. 

“Well, that answers that question.” Stiles says, and his voice cracks a little. 

“What question?” Derek’s fingers trace a line up his jaw, across his cheek, to stroke under his eye. 

Stiles shivers, then manages a cheeky grin. “Whether or not I was imagining all the wild sexual tension between us.” 

Derek groans again, but it’s more exasperated now, and Stiles laughs before Derek drags him into another kiss. 

The world might not be split into superheroes and bad guys, or even good people and bad people, and Stiles might not be sure where he fits in on that spectrum, because hey, he’s a bit of an asshole sometimes. He might not be sure where he fits in the grand scheme of things, but in this place, in Stiles’ home, he thinks he might have found someone who fits perfectly with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I hope that wasn't too awful for you :D Thanks again! It is now COMPLETED!!!!!!!!!!!! (Finally) 
> 
> Come check me out on tumblr, coconutcranberries be the name. (I still don't know how to link stuff) 
> 
> Much love and thanks!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. Sorry about the deletion again, accidental, I swear! New chapter added in a second :) Hope you like it all! Let me know what you think :3 Oh and I couldn't remember the summary exactly, so I re-wrote it!


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